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I think of my mother, I no longer picture the tearful woman at the door telling me to forget her. I see the mother who finally found the strength to tell the truth, who let love — fragile and complicated as it was — find its way home.
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I think of my mother, I no longer picture the tearful woman at the door telling me to forget her. I see the mother who finally found the strength to tell the truth, who let love — fragile and complicated as it was — find its way home.
ADVERTISEMENT