“I love them. My mother was Polish, so when I was a little kid, my Nana would make pierogies every Christmas Eve.” I blinked, catching myself. “I mean, she’s still Polish. That doesn’t ever go away.” I was rambling and we both knew it. “Anyway…she died, so it’s been a while since I’ve had pierogies.” My cheeks puffed with a full breath. “Nana died. Not my mother.” I was a mess.
Me trying to talk
