It would never be enough.
“No one who is young is ever going to be old.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Inspiration
I’m chasing the sweet spot of cascading memories. Almost a year has passed since I lost my mother. I really do miss her. I haven’t written much about anything since her death. What can be said about loss that hasn’t already been said? This story and it’s recipes came together in bits and pieces, the roiling of memories all tangled with now.