My mom's favorite story from my childhood is one about a rag doll. I had spotted it in a window of a shop in Atlantic city while strolling on the boardwalk. The shop was shut, and my grandmother told me we would go back another time. We never did, and I talked about the doll incessantly. Later, I'm not sure how much time had elapsed since the window-shopping trip on the boardwalk, my mother fell ill. We lived in Atlanta; my grandmother lived in Philadelphia. When my mom went into the hospital, my grandmother flew down to take care of my two … [Read more...]
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