stefaany brown

Sweet Margareet

7 am grocery store runs with the woman who I am blessed to call my mother, Sweet Margareet. Her name is Margareet, but I add the sweet because she’s so kind and it sounds perfect. Store shenanigans of trying to get things I don’t normally get. “Ouu, ma I love this candy.” Peaking out from a side eye to see if she picked up on what I was insinuating. “Go ahead Luna, and don’t ask for anything else.” Smirks came upon our faces because we both knew that it wouldn’t be my last. Roaming the aisles and humming a soft tune; also, stopping by the peanut dispensary to grab a quick a snack.