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A conglomeration of Cajun, Italian, and Mexican artwork gave my parents’ living room welcoming and comfortable style.
I led Shea into the kitchen, where the table was covered with dishes of strawberry crepes, poached eggs, grits, paella, French toast, boiled shrimp, beignets, and fresh fruit. A carafe of chicory coffee stood in the center of the table next to a spray of fresh-picked roses from my mother’s garden.
My mother’s eyes welled up with tears as a hand clapped over her mouth. “Oh…oh my dear sweet girl.”
She was a petite woman with long graying hair that was once jet-black. She launched from the table and wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.
“Oh, just look at you.” She released me and planted kisses on my face.
“I’ve missed you too, Mom.” I said when our eye
