| 04.14.04
6:00am every sarurday morning with a black taught bun in her hair.
immediately would begin cooking up this tremendous breakfast of
runny eggs, piles of bacon and freshly cut sourdough toast with
loads of butter. "oshi" she would ask me. "oshi"
i would reply. she loved her solitaire, her prayer and the songs
that she would hum from her past. my obachan was a century old.
today is the memorial day of her passing.
|
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
)
