Once upon a time, Mom took a correspondence class. She never made more than a B or B-. In this lesson, they had her writing beginnings and endings - just like Dr. JAC told us to do when I first took the writing institute.
She had a notebook of this stuff that dad pulled out of the closet as they are cleaning for the last move. The pages were mixed and crumpled. She's putting them back together and sharing them with me, one by one.
This one is of our first meeting. I'm celebrating it. But also pre-grieving our last.
Mom Reading
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