Even the cold rain couldn’t keep me from being excited as I described his Southern “y’all” accent for my mom. I squatted beside her chiseled name and rambled, like I did every day, until the alarm on my phone buzzed. This ritual had kind of become like an oral diary over the years, except I wasn’t recording, and no one was listening. Well, except—I hoped my mom was. It was time to head back. I stood and patted her headstone. “See you tomorrow. Love you.” I took a deep breath before turning and jogging down the hill. The rain was still coming down hard, but muscle memory made it easy to stay on
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