Saturday, November 14, 2009

Palm-Sized Portions

There is the kind of love that brings you to the altar and there is the kind that lets you live happily ever after.

I'm not sure Helen has never said outright, "I loved my husband." She doesn't need to. It's obvious. She still blushes and giggles every time she mentions his name. I've often wondered how she got to be so good at it, at the fine art of marriage. Turns out she got it from her mom.

My mom used to roll out a huge dough every week. Every morning, she would pinch off four little pieces, just the size of her palms, and lay them in the oven. That's because my dad loved warm bread for his breakfast. And of course my sister Irene and I grew to like it too.