My clearest memory is my mother’s crescent-shaped blue eyes dancing while we taste freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and sip from cool glasses of milk. I feel her gathering me onto her lap because the boy I loved broke up with me. I hear the mellow dinner bell ringing in the backyard and her voice at twilight calling us to come in for supper. Her love did not overlook. Not one of us. Not once.
Tag: children
Keep This Table Now and in Our Hearts
My thoughts turn to a fundamental ritual: the family table. After dinner on Sunday, three generations leaned into conversations, propping our elbows on the kitchen table that stood for decades through years of mischief, arguments, tears, and joy. Wherever you take a meal this holiday, I wish you sweet memories.