Proud to Be a Spitfire

We celebrated, more than mourned, the colorful and textured life of my great-grandma Mavis. We honored her with red lips and red dresses and red heels. Nestled in a wooden pew with a sister on each side, I reached my arm across the shoulders of one of them to gently reassure my mom. Cousins and … Continue reading Proud to Be a Spitfire

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