The kitchen used to be enemy territory for me. I grew up with a mother who cooked out of necessity. I did not see joy in her face while she prepared meals. My father, on the other hand, saw cooking as one of the highest creative pursuits. He could cobble a spread from whatever happened…
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Blink and it’s gone
At the crack of dawn, I was already driving home from the airport, wiping big mama tears from my cheeks. My eldest was headed back to Texas, his fireman gear packed efficiently per his norm. Military precision is his modus operandi. While he was getting ready to board a plane, I was heading back to…
