Roots

It’s a wonder to watch Mama keep house. It’s a legacy in itself to watch her bustle and fly about and have time to kiss every child of hers that passes through a room. She pauses to drink a cup of chai in the kitchen and beam over her people. I realized as she did…

Give Me My Roses While I Live

    “It’s an old saying,” ┬áMama said, her voice coming over the line this morning; ” But I was reminded of it again last month when Daddy and I were on the way to the hospital during his second round of sepsis. He was reacting badly to the antibiotics, and they had shown us…