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Although she's been dead for three
years,
today is still my mother's birthday. I miss
her.
Still, being there when she passed was an
experience
I feel lucky to have had. I've been in the
room with Death.
Today, I sat at my sister's kitchen table
for hours (days?)
and lifted bits of ink from yesterday's New York Times
with little strips of transparent tape and
transferred them
to the recycled album cover notebook Sarah
gave me.
Snow falls, Emma and Jim go to the mall,
Margaret is out,
L'il Sarah and David are at the last of
their ski lessons.
The news seems optimistic--Lott steps down,
SUVs get
columns and columns of bad press, and I see
"peace"
repeated on page after
page. I guess we'll see...
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