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I am reminded how our things outlast us, which I find reassuring and unsettling at once.
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What I most want for Christmas is for someone to say, “Tell me about your mom.” It might be the gift everyone was waiting for, that invitation: Just tell me.”
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The world is such a big place when you’re a child with so many mysteries and threats and dangers. So many misunderstandings.
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Before my mother taught me to iron, she taught me to sprinkle. Next, I learned about the iron itself which—like many adult appliances—was dangerous.
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Jock took a group of us pony-trekking and as we rode up into the rugged mountains—the mist lifting and the sheep calling—I knew I belonged to this lovely, melancholy landscape.
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I was smiling as I went on my way, surprised to discover how much pleasure it gave me to help these people. And I think most of us are really yearning to be of help to each other.
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How lucky, I thought, that I got to start out at the candy counter!
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The green cabbage was so big, it slipped out of my hand and rolled into the carrots just as the overhead spray came on, misting the vegetables and my shirt.