Of Grandmothers and Daughters

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In my basement was a box. In that box was a sweater belonging to my grandmother, gone these nine years. In the pocket of that sweater was this list. And for a moment, she was standing right next to me.More than anything, it was the handwriting that brought Nonny back to me, but also the very her-ness of the list. Bacon bits. Vodka. Tonic. She and my grandfather were very Mad Men, drinking a cocktail or several each night. I can hear her quiet giggles still, as she laughed at my … [Read more...]


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