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Saturday, March 31, 2012

 

Ma was already up doing a load of clothes and frying bacon. As we walked in the back door I yelled, “Company!”
Ma stuck her head out of the basement doorway, took one look at Sonya, and practically sprinted across the kitchen to her side. “You poor thing. What has happened to you? You look like something the dogs drug in.”
“My daddy used to say that,” Sonya replied.


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