every. single. day. --I miss you both like mad.
There are all these rose colored memories that float around my head-- there you are sitting at your huge wooden table that is covered in everyday bed sheets and also lace from china and always colorful batiks from india.
Everyone has a little english teacup. and maybe a brownie or grapes or cookies from a dutch tin. or a swedish pancake. or a papadom.
And the stories of your travels and your life in india wander through the daily conversation. something about an elephant; something about getting lost; something about a nice couple selling fruit at the market. something about a church. something about cooking.
I wish I could sit at that table again with you and talk with you about this trip we are taking. I know you would have miles to say about everything. I know you could put my mind to rest.
Rachel
Rachel
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