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This week’s prompt: …with your going comes the past…
Busy hands, but racing heart—nothing helped—washing; ironing; packing. Tears leaked and memories replayed.
‘When I grow up, I’m gonna marry you.’ The scrawny blonde boy with bruised knees and scabbed elbows; dirty nails and muddied shoes—perfect. My heart twists still.
“Let’s go, Ma. We’re ready to roll.”
I grab the snacks and wink. “What’s the rush? You heading somewhere special—college maybe?” With your going comes the past, but though soon you’ll be a man, you’re still my precious boy.
“Hey. Put me down!”
“Swing your partner, dosie-doe.”
“I’ll be home for Christmas.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
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