Cracks Heal

The smell of sautéing onions brings me back to a time when I was very much in love. When preparing meals was a welcome home to a hug. Where the palace Kensington held daily walking rounds.

I close my eyes and remember that kiss hello, I missed you. I turn and embrace the memory in the hopes it will stay but it fades. Along with all those dreams that did not play.

I drink my sangria and stir the wooden handle to add mushrooms and feel that love is here. In the heart that beholds. I cook with it, I sew with it and perhaps one day I will become it. Though love is not a person, it is a feeling we cultivate.

I have been looking for this machine I named MaryLou for sometime. Happy to say she is home and I will make sure her and I have a great deal of fun.

The forth of July with the family, finally opening up to a world of possibilities.

Dad and I for his belated Father’s Day date with his silly daughter for a Great Gatsby Jazz concert event.

My sister and nephew and all the cuteness. For the moments when we show up and magic lights up.

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