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... she ate, that’s what I ate.

She would bask in the sun with me in her arms, talk to me, recount her youth, and speak of the children’s father, that man whose face she had already forgotten.

She would talk about amusing stories of her three children when they were young, saying how her eldest son promised to spoil her in her later years, so she wouldn’t have to do anything and meals would be served while she sat in bed;

She said her second son would get her new clothes made ...

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