The Surprising Sources of Nostalgia

A name-carving made by my late mother circa 1984

The door to our storage room sticks just a little; one of the many consequences of finishing the basement myself. I pushed the door open with its characteristic *click* and flicked on the lights.

I was on a mission to find a can of Mandarin Oranges for the Hawaiian Haystacks I planned for dinner.

While searching for the elusive Mandarin Oranges (which I didn’t find), I…