My mother…

My mother had died and I was going through her things when there they were…those old yellowed and tattered pages of my mother’s story, the one my grandmother had written for her so many years ago.  It’s funny how things have a way of happening at just the right time…or so it sometimes seems.  I was soon to become a grandmother myself for the first time and here I was about to meet my own grandmother for the first time.  I meet my grandmother while reading those pages of her written words.  Eventually I would combine her words with mine and we would write a book together.

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