My mother’s only wish for her 78th birthday was dinner at the little Italian bistro her friends from church had been talking about for months.

Nothing extravagant.

No party.

No expensive gifts.

Just one evening somewhere that reminded her of the country she’d left behind decades earlier.

I drove through downtown with Mom humming softly beside me, one hand resting on the worn handbag she’d carried for years…. Continue Reading ⬇️

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