The Day I Helped Mama Can

Old radio moaned Hank Williams. Sliced pears, sugar speckled counter top, a ball of sweat hung from Mama's nose. Geese honked outside the window brightening my eyes. Earlier, running, slapping mud under my six-year-old feet, Mama, broom in hand, two rapid strikes drove away the monsters that chased me to the screened backdoor.


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