Sara DeSeno

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It was a rush she had not felt in years, not since she herself had last managed to produce a living child. The feeling of complete, absorbing, unqualified love. The baby was a stranger, without speech, unknowable. It would be years before he could say what was on his mind. And yet, love did not wait. Love was there in the beginning—even before the beginning. Love needed no words, no introduction. Existence was enough.
River Sing Me Home
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