As I stand on the doorstep, awaiting the answer to my knocking, the fall leaves rush across my feet, swirling and crunching as the wind picks up. This typical fall day in South Weymouth brings a sense of nostalgia, visiting my grandparents. I hear creaking as my little, Italian grandmother walks through the old hallway, nearing the doorway. She opens the door and greets me with a huge hug and kiss, just as always, and I start taking in my senses. The absent smell of home cooked food that usually…
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