The boy’s pulse listed as he helped me learn the jerk of the clutch.
Writing has saved my life on more than one occasion, although I didn’t realize it at the time.
I was the biographer of one woman, but I was also writing my own life.
Mother be forgotten, buffalo meat cut to strips to dry. The sun.
When my youngest son died by his own hand, my life shattered, and my faith crumbled.
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