If my mother would’ve had a motor, it would have run on garlic.

Indeed, I would be remiss as a storyteller if I did not make that clear.

Garlic was her continual cure all. So much so that even when she went through her change of life, she refused to take any supplements or hormones.

She swore that the answer to the change of life was garlic.

Raw garlic.

I remember her once telling me that when clients came over to drop off their paperwork, she would yell at them from the door warning her that she was totally unapproachable.

They were to drop their files on the ground where she could come and get them, and they were to back away slowly.

No word of a lie.

She used to make this red kidney beans and garlic salad that I considered nothing less then the ambrosia of the gods.

I’ve forgotten the recipe, and that’s probably for the best.

To this day, if I’ve been eating garlic, my daughters always tell me that I smell like their Nana…

And that’s okay.

In fact….

…. I wouldn’t have it any other way!


(Postcard above sent from my friend at work to Mother)