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A Letter To Mom

On your 19th birthday you stood in your soon-to-be mother-in-law’s pearl white living room in front of the pastor and a small crowd of family and friends. All were assembled around her white couch and loveseat, trimmed in red with their skin hot and sticky, molded to the plastic that covered the furniture. Some stood, afraid to step off of the rubber floor runner that covered the white carpet. There weren’t any musicians – just a lone record player in the corner and the heckle and laughter of your future brother and sister-in-laws.

Since it was December, and soul food is always on the menu, I imagine that chitterlings and greens were cooking on the stove along with fried chicken being kept warm in the oven. Some of the family and friends were there for a good meal. But not you. I looked at your picture from your wedding day…

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