In the next days it seemed like I was falling headlong, like I’d just tripped over something and was dropping into some strange new place. I went over and over what I could remember about Mama. I recalled asking her how her and Daddy met, and she told me that tale about the two of them drifting together, and then she laughed. She was like to tease me that way, like we had all the time in the world. She’d showed me how to cook okra and get out spit-up stains, but I hardly knowed nothing about Mama herself, what she was like. It was as if Mama was what she done, and not who she was. It wasn’t
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