I found a picture years ago of my great-grandmother bathing my mother in a gigantic bowl on her front porch. I don't own the picture, but I just loved it. A few year after that, my daughter Rose died and it brought me great comfort to picture Rose being bathed by my Granny. Granny loved babies, so I just knew she was there to welcome Rose, bathe her, care for her as I could not.
And now I have a baby girl here, in my arms, to love and care for, so today we got out a big bread bowl :
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