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An illustration with a swirly orange and yellow backdrop. In the forefront are two sets of hands extending from either side of the frame. They are outlined in black. The pair on the right holds a bowl of stew and is handing it to the pair of hands on the left.

There is a language only women speak — heard in the clatter of pots at dawn and in the simmering broth that carries the memory of old kitchens across oceans and years.

Illustration of an individual sitting on a dock in a gloomy Pacific Northwest environment holding a stick to the water.

As the days get shorter, the weather gets colder and the sun begins to hide behind grey clouds, it becomes harder and harder to stay positive, especially as a university student. With major deadlines happening as it seems to rain endlessly, it becomes harder to find a light at the end of the tunnel (literally).

A basket of cookies individually wrapped in plastic with a sign reading "gluten-free" and a list of baked goods and their prices.

I’ve recently become acquainted with someone who has celiac disease, meaning he not only can’t eat gluten (obviously), but also can’t have anything cross-contaminated with gluten — a part of having celiac that I wasn’t aware of.

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