It’s not unusual for me to become lost in thought with my morning coffee. Often, I find a garden of sweetness waiting there. Sometimes, I find a memory that I pick up like a shiny new penny, a memory that has laid dormant for many, many years. Memories such as the times my mother would make her way to the storm cellar on a cold winter’s day to retrieve a few jars of peaches she had canned in the fall. There were nine children in my family, so we knew we were going to have a treat sometime that evening. Memories of mother are from that sweet spot in the garden of my mind. The aroma of coffee brings back the best of times and sometimes the worst of times, but certainly, always worth the visit of yesterday.
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