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Stained A Little

Tags: memories

She was my best friend. As dear to me as a shadow. A shadow named Granny who visited me on occasions, when I was sad and lonely. She was small in stature but big in heart. But often she cried when I was down with the blues. Yet! She was no one's fool.

She knew the words she spoke sounded as if she were country folk. But she was humble as pumpkin pie out of season. Raising a family on turnips greens and blackeye peas.  

I remember her singing, "O beautiful for spacious skies," with tears in her eyes. The day they lay grandpa to rest. She wore the dress she was wed in. Stained with a little of grandpa's tobacco.

Now I am waiting for the door to squeak and speak to granny. Hearing grandpa play his fiddle in the twilight.

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