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My grandmother once baked blueberry pies for us after we spent the early morning picking them behind her 3rd story apartment. It was way back behind some overly tall hedges and just to the side of a swampy pond. It was hot outside and she had no air conditioning inside. She showed me how to pick them, as grandmothers can only show, and then how to clean them for the pie. I tried to help her with the crust, but only made a pasty mess of her floor and my clothes. She had the whitest hair I had ever seen. I always thought it made her angelic. She was a big stature and heart. A woman who would hug and kiss up any child, whether they needed it or not. A woman who gave without a second thought. A woman who laughed no matter what you did wrong. A woman who to this day is where my prayers go because she still answers every single one. I never told her I didn't like blueberries.

Female Only #6
ISSN: 1044-7490 (c) September, 1999
All rights remain with their creators

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Print version edited by Cheryl Townsend at Implosion Press