rowing up, I remember coming home in the afternoon after school and finding Mom, pink curlers still in her hair, doubled up with laughter at the kitchen table. Behind her, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, another pile waiting to be folded. Beds to make, dinner to prepare. In her hands, a newspaper opened to the latest At Wit's End column by Erma Bombeck. This was time — do not
THERE'S LAUGHTER EVERYWHERE
Mar 01, 2024
3 minutes
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