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I miss my mother

It is early Sunday morning; Mother’s Day.

I do not need a special day to remember momma. I miss her being around. I wish she were here right now to do my laundry, fold my clothes and put them away.

I think of my momma every morning when I straighten my bed and especially on laundry day when it is time to change the bed clothes. 

I wish the smell of sausage, eggs, biscuits and gravy came from the kitchen every morning, but it does not.

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