soup

The Smell of My Grandpa’s Soup

By | faith | No Comments

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The sun is peeking over the horizon, brightening the guestroom just enough for me to take in the familiar furniture at my grandparents’ house Stark Street in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. In this memory, I don’t know how old I am, because I’m lots of ages… this jarring…

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