Ouch
I felt so sorry for my mom. Not only because strange things seem to happen to the both of us, but because she was in pain.
Back in the early ’80’s, we had a wood stove in the basement. I have previously talked about how my mom was the only one who tended to it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help. I asked her several times to show me how, but each time, she answered, “No!”
Why? Because I was a typical teenage girl. She knew my mind would be on boys, school drama and homework. Then I asked if I could at least help by carrying in some wood. Again, she answered, “No!”
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