Bittersweet is the taste. It lingers pleasant on my breakfast palette while elements of suffering cling to the tongue’s side buds. They won’t let me forget her.
Four precious grands fly my direction today. But one is absent for she endures a suffering- because of our deep love for Lucy, we all do.
In defiance of hell, the word is officially renamed. It is sweetbitter. Spring Break 2025 you are indeed, sweetbitter.
PS. Please pray about the sourness of our familie’s separation.
PSPS. Our Minnesota grands arrive in June!
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