Today would have been my grandmother’s 90th birthday. Growing, I always thought we had a special bond because our birthdays were only three days apart.  I would sit in the kitchen as a child and watch her cook. She made the best peach cobbler. It wasn’t pretty, but I’ve never tasted one better. When I first got married I’d call her every time I made gravy. She would talk me through it. Her stories about growing up in Mississippi inspired me to write my first novella, The Only Way. I attribute much of who I am as a woman and a mother to her teaching. I would love to be able to hold her soft hands one more time.
Today, I start my birthday week remembering my grandma and celebrating her life.

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