Today would have been my Oma’s 92nd birthday.

I miss her like crazy.

I wish she could see what I do, taste the food I cook, give me another lesson in zwieback making. I wonder how she would react in circumstances I find myself in, what she would do, what she would say.

And I wish for another hug, to walk into her home one more time, to hear her say my name.

I’m thankful for the memories, for the photos that crowd my desk and walls, for the recipes written in her hand. They aren’t enough, but they’re all that I have.