![]() ![]() Our childhood lunch of choice at Grandma’s to refuel us during a day of somersaults in the swimming pool and backyard adventures. The ones that my cousins and I constantly debated over whose turn it was to eat the middle roll. Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls, the ones we’d make all the time in the summers we spent at Grandma and Grandpas. I healed through food that reminded me of her, our childhood time spent with her, and my Grandpa, and her favorite foods. So I healed the best way I knew how: through food. ![]() When everything is the same, it’s easy to put up the denial shield and pretend that, well, everything is the same. ![]() How to heal.Įspecially because, as I’m sure you know, it’s incredibly easy to fall into the same mundane routine these days. Since I couldn’t go be with her, I couldn’t be with family, and I couldn’t leave my house, again because of that virus, I was at a loss for how to attempt to begin greiving. I lost my Grandma unexpectedly in her battle with that virus. But I never experienced such a treat until a few months ago, when it was time to heal through food. But my Grandma was on to something.įor as long as I can remember (or, likely in my adult age when I was of-age), my Grandma would rave about how much she loved Piña Coladas…but it had to be made with ice cream. Did you ever think such summery, beach-vibey, cocktail could exist? ![]()
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