Tag: Mother

Holding on to Memories . . . and Small Appliances

Kathryn and her Food Processor
When I got home today I found a package with my name on it, tucked behind my storm door. I picked it up and stood in the doorway staring down at it and I had to laugh: I had absolutely no idea what was in it. The only thing that came to mind was tea. I remembered ordering my favorite British decaf tea last weekend. But judging by the feel of the padded envelope, I knew that wasn’t what it was. I settled myself at the kitchen table and tore open the package. I spied a bit of clear Lucite peeking...

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