The stepping stones my Nana laid

Having spent my childhood summers in Michigan, I was surrounded by the music, scents and cultural values uplifted by my Armenian grandparents. Each summer, without fail, my five-year-old self eagerly awaited the lahmajun I had crowned as my favorite meal. As I bit into the crunchy edges, my vantage point at the dinner table offered a view of an oil painting of my Armenian great-grandparents. Frankly, at the time, I was unconcerned by the painting looming above me and my prized lahmajun. Little d