Children grown-up.

        Ben and I have three kid’s.
     Two are biological. One came to us in a storm (not in a basket, but a basket-case, so to speak).
     Chase (our first, but not the oldest) is a musician/web designer/ entrepreneur in New York City. He has a fabulous flat, a beautiful girlfriend, grows a garden on his rooftop, and calls his mother every day. Good boy.
     Tyler (our oldest) came to us through sad circumstances with the idea being that he would stay until his family’s problems got resolved. They never did. He now belongs to us. They can’t have him back. 
     He works for a financial company here in New Orleans, lives a few blocks away, tends his garden, comes for family Sunday supper, and swells my heart.
     Bryn (our youngest) lives in Chicago, is pursuing her dream of becoming a DVM (Doctor of Veterinarian Medicine), is fiercely loyal, academically brilliant, and has recently become a ‘Mommy’ to two adorable fuzzy-butts. They are driving her crazy. She calls for advise every day (what will she do when the human kind come?). 
     They have all grown-up and are happy, and productive, and garden, and cook.  
     I don’t know which I’m more proud of ? 

(not the kid’s- 
the gardening or the cooking).
Bryn’s stove-top.
She’s reducing a fresh tomato sauce to serve over Couscous.
Her new babies-
Winnie and Ned.
They miss their grandmomma.

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