Last week was my dad's birthday and for his gift, each of the kids made him one of his mom's recipes, which my sister found and scanned for us. (Obviously, because of my limited cooking skills, I got the easiest one, nut crisps. Butter, walnuts, powdered sugar. Yum.) I copied my assigned recipe down on a random scrap of paper and realized while doing so that it was the first time I had ever seen her handwriting. Now this might sound silly to people who don't see handwriting the same way I do. You see, for me, handwriting is part of a person, something identifiable, and something I actually find comfort in, like when I get mail from my parents and grandparents. So making the recipe was definitely a way of getting to know my grandmother, but so was actually seeing the recipe.
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