Danielle’s blond curls brushed Mother’s shoulder as she peered into the stew pot from the barstool. Each afternoon, she watched as her mother prepared dinner. She pretended to stir, twirling her soda straw as if it were a spoon. “Sweetheart,” Mother said, handing her daughter the squeeze butter and dinner rolls, “please help Mommy by putting these on the table.” Mother continued to stir, content that her daughter was away from the boiling stew. Suddenly, Mother realized the house was … Continue reading →