Burnt Edges: The Warmth and Chaos of Love

As Mom danced around the kitchen, her movements were a symphony of anticipation, each step and turn synchronized with the rhythm of her soaring mood. But the melody soured abruptly, a needle scratching across vinyl, when she discovered the empty egg carton. "This is a disaster!" she cried out, her voice a crescendo of despair, "We can't possibly make cookies now!"