Category: Willows, Memories from Back Home
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My Godmother Mary
My Godmother Mary has always had a way of lighting up the room before she even steps into it.Her home, once brimming with color and curious little things, felt like walking into a story. Every corner whispered charm, a kind…
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Back Home
I’m standing in the house where I first knew the world. The walls feel the same.The ground holds me like it remembers my weight. It hits me somewhere between the front steps and the kitchen light—this quiet feeling, soft as…
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Over to the Other Side…Going Home
Back to California, I would have never believed that I would have lived longer in France, than I ever lived in the States—which still feels odd, even now. But California I call home. That’s just what it is. I’m going…
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The 4th
Somewhere between the anthem and the silence, I wonder: is liberty still ringing, or is that the echo of something we forgot to hold for all? America, the beautiful- be true. Google
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Mother’s Feast Day
My mother’s garden allows one to breathe in and feel the certainty of its roots. It doesn’t pretend to be pretty only in springtime. No, no, no—instead, it shows its beauty in every season. A wise lady, my mother is.…
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Judy’s Booklet about Our Va Amaro
With days that often feel blurred, where memories can easily fade, connections to those we love matter, as do stirring up memories to help us define and keep alive our stories. When I was home my cousin Judy brought over…