The most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten is the toil of my ancestors:

She was a product of two hopeful and maybe desperate Greek immigrants who looked toward the lamp lifted beside a golden door and said, “…yes, please help.” Her last words on Earth to me were, “…help people” — as her reminder to me to do so. My grandma walked through fire, as did her parents before her, and I and my maternal family members are the products of that whole painful yet purifying, beautifying process. We all have her New York City heart and determination as well as her Greek-American intellect and empathy for others. Who of your ancestors have appeared as refined as gold to you?

“Lifted: Our Haiku”
You have walked through fire
And yet, emerged not consumed
I see your lustre

Photo Credit: Lisa Mae, FieryPhotography.com; and, unknown antique photographer