Is Progress Guaranteed? Rethinking the…

Yesterday morning, Mama took her seat in the living room at five minutes to seven. I brought her coffee – dark, strong and unsweetened – in a mug with a photograph of her grandchildren upon it. We often spend late Junes at the ranch. The children are out of school; the weather is not yet beastly hot. The plums and blackberries are reaching their ideal ripeness, and the former will be collected for jam. The young ones sleep late, but I rise at dawn even on vacation, and my mother follows soon after. This is our quiet time together: to talk about the family, to remember what was and plan what will be.

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