A fitting post for Mother’s Day and beyond from Duke Miller.
(Dedicated to Teresa and Marshall.)
I have never loved until now. For years the word scarcely escaped my lips. Women would wait and still they waited until I was no more. In my family I only used it with my father, mother, and one of my grandmothers. As to my sisters, the word just didn’t seem right. Was a brother meant to love his sisters? Of course, but I was an idiot back then. I could not see, since my eyes had been poked out with burned sticks at Christmas.
I spoke love to one of my grandmothers. Nanny was a religious woman, a piano player, and born of the depression and because I had asthma and the air was clean in the tiny town where she lived, I’d visit in the autumn and spring. I could roam freely down the limestone rock streets. Sometimes the tornadoes came and we…
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