Category: Memories from Back Home
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A Problem with the Plane
The plane backed away from the gate, rolled for a bit, and then stopped. A few minutes later, the pilot came on the intercom and said there was a problem with one of the engines. They were trying to locate…
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Hellos and Goodbyes
The leaving. It asks more of me now- this goodbye pierced heavier, and deeper. This time, something happened that caught me off guard. I cried uncontrollably at the airport. I remembered the first time I left home for France. I…
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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,…