homeThe whole house smelled of lemongrass, lemon balm and mint as a homemade tea steeped on the stovetop. What we call Mama Bread baked, its undeniable fragrance and connection to our lives for years now filling our hearts, grounding us. The sun streamed over the trees I planted so I could one day hang a hammock (and where now a hammock hangs), across the garden which has fed us since the towers fell, across the kitchen where we light candles and share our stories of the day, although not as often now as things have changed. And yet, they haven’t.


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