T’is a mother in my life who feels all alone waiting for something completely unknown
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
T’is a mother in my life who feels all alone waiting for something completely unknown
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The arms of my oversized chocolate brown chair hold my tired body as I bring the face of my discontented daughter towards me. Her quivering lips latch on and her squawks slow to a grave whimper as she suckles the milk from my breast with a sweet hum of contentment. Oxytocin forges through my body…
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