Category: Memories from Back Home
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Hellos and Goodbyes
The leaving. It asks more of me now the goodbye pierce heavier This time, something happened that caught me off guard. I cried in the airport. Uncontrollably.I remembered. The first time I left home for France. I cried so hard…
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Family and Faith
In the wooden pews In the candlelight.In the slow ribbon of incense rising Faces I have loved since childhood.Hands reaching.Nods across the aisle. A sacred silence. Every word finding its place. Felt the presence of those who knelt here years ago.Grandparents.Aunts.Uncles.Cousins.Neighbors.Entire…
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The Cookie Maker
My mother has always been a baker. There were pies cooling on the counter, cakes with candles, popcorn balls wrapped for little hands, and cookies— The recipe begins the way it always has. Two cups of flour, sifted. Nothing rushed, …
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The Black Dress
Whenever I travel back home, a black dress finds its place in my suitcase. Returning to my hometown means stepping into a place where every life touches another. A new baby arrives. Two hands join. A table fills. A chair…
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Linda’s Spiced Fig Cake
Every time I’ve come home from France over the past 40 years, I’ve walked through my mother’s front door to find one of Linda’s glorious welcome baskets waiting—filled with homemade jams, cakes, cookies, fruit, vegetables, nuts, and countless delicious surprises,…
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The Youngest and the Oldest
The youngest in our family, his baby Cal- he is one year old. The oldest is my mother. She is 90 years old.