Every morning I stand at this kitchen window to make my coffee.

While the water boils, I admire the African violets that remind me of Momaw Jiggs, that also grow in her very own planters. When the coffee is ready, I drink it from my Momaw Bertie's cups. I think about things that they used to say and do. And I pray for my Popaw Deb and Popaw Lucian who are missing them fiercely, but pushing forward.

It's sacred time for me.

I used to marvel at how this corner window was the only place in my house where things would grow well.

Now, I don't wonder anymore. It's growing me, too.