I’ve felt especially nostalgic lately. Jonathan and I take long walks on empty rural roads each day. We pass raspberry farms and wheat farms and large families playing bocce ball on expansive lawns. I smell the soil. I drift back to extended family gatherings at my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’.
Read MoreI remember the time that feels like the first time my parents left me at my grandparents. I sobbed at the sliding glass door staring as my parents pulled away. Gramma Ebey swooped down and scooped me up. She headed straight to the kitchen.
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