Reationships Are Tricky

Part Three: Roses in her Garden (remembering my grandmother)

Her house smelled of roast dinners. Every time I cook pork or stew apples, I’m taken back twenty years: running around the farm with my cousins while waiting to eat. There were always the old, colourful building blocks out in the lounge room to play with. We would strive to build the biggest pyramid. I… Continue reading Part Three: Roses in her Garden (remembering my grandmother)

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