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These dinners have become a kind of prayer — not like my father’s devoted rituals, but something equally sacred. A prayer of presence, of paying attention, of memorizing the faces we love while they’re still across the table rather than across an ocean.
Srini
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Tears in my eyes. So beautiful
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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