A Spoon Full of Love
One simple way to stir memories.
I searched throughout the kitchen, it wasn’t there. My heart pounded, sweat began to bead across my brow, my breathing quickened. Panic was inevitable. Where is it? It has to be here.
The well-loved ladle, unpolished and oxidizing, always felt comfortable in hand. Family stories suspected the ancient large spoon may have been at one time a gravy…