When I reminiscence on my childhood, I remember holidays with my grandparents. My grandma sitting at the table, chopping vegetables and my mom baking fresh, heaping loaves of zucchini bread.
Read MoreBefore the boys, our sabbath looked like lazy drawn out mornings unfolding in coffee refills and hour long quiet times. The hours seeped into each other, morning to afternoon to evening, like waves lapping the shore.
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