What the Kitchen Gave Back to Me
I didn’t step into the kitchen expecting to find my mother. But in the rhythm of cooking - hands moving, music playing, flavors dancing - I felt her beside me. The kitchen became a place where grief softened, joy simmered, and love, somehow, found its way back into every meal.
What Making Taught Me About Belonging
I thought I was just arranging flowers. But in the mess of stems and petals, I was learning how to take up space. Creating alongside others, I didn’t just make something beautiful - I began to believe I belonged. Not because I had it all figured out, but because I finally showed up as myself.