theresa goodwin

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“I did find that feeling. But it wasn’t in Europe, or Asia, or on a mountaintop or on a beautiful, white sand beach.” I shook my head. “It was in that boring, tiny cabin with no power, no technology, no fancy food or fancy views or fancy entertainment. It was in front of that fireplace, under that stupid old blanket,” I said on a laugh that Beth joined me in. “With that stupid man and that stupid dog.” I sniffed. “I had everything I needed in that moment. And I felt it in my soul.”
The Christmas Blanket
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