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Winnie and Me
Our yards line up back to back the only separation the flower beds hers and mine Winnie is 89 me...47 I visit her this clear cool morn taking with me her favorite treat warm fresh from the bakery glazed doughnuts She greets me eagerly our Saturday routine established long ago Trembling liver-spotted hands pour the fresh-brewed coffee into delicate Dresden china cups taking hers black mine with cream savoring the first cup of the day nibbling sugary specked doughnuts as she again recalls days past husband long deceased her anchor for many years children and grandchildren and quilts stitched with love double wedding rings lone stars and log cabins through her kitchen window we watch the finches golden and purple perched at the feeders eagerly digesting the sunflower seeds as squirrels race teasingly from tree to tree The time has flown I prepare to leave with promises of next weeks ritual ahead of us reminders of call me if you need anything as I embrace her with a hug and a thank you for letting me share pieces of her life her memories her Saturday we are sisters at heart years apart yet stitched as tightly as the fan quilt airing on the clothesline just in front of the flowerbeds hers and mine
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