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She was doomed from the minute I set eyes on her, a frail old lady, wrinkled face wreathed in smiles, frizzy silver (NOT grey) hair, thinning on the crown, red and white striped knit top, blue skirt (color scheme no doubt in honor of July 4th), black purse clutched firmly in the crook of a withered little right arm…
She shuffled in behind her son, a dapper good looking sixtiesh guy and supported by her daughter-in-law, (I’m pretty sure I got the family ties correct) sat down, one pew ahead of me.
She couldn’t kneel but did go up for communion. I waited till after recession and then went over, told her son she was absolutely beautiful and asked if I may hug her.  He smiled and said “this is Miss M from Connecticut. She is visiting.”
“Well, hello Miss M from Connecticut,” I said. “And how old are you?”
Big smiles, holding my hand, “eighty six” she said, “and I’m going home tomorrow.”
I told her son about my project and enveloped this lovely woman in another hug. She was love, just love, every bit of that warm, tired, shapeless and worn out old body vibrated with the years of affection and love and hugs she had dispensed. It was hard to let go but finally I did.
Godspeed, Miss M from Connecticut.

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