If, today, you and I were able to sit at your kitchen table and talk over a cup of coffee just one last time, I would …
… tell you to pour some Sambuca (the good kind, not the generic anisette you always settled for) in our cups. Today is, after all, your eightieth birthday.
… bake you a batch of sesame cookies; the kind I cursed Stella D’Oro for not making anymore the year you were dying and kept asking for your favorite cookies.
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