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62 February Is No Month to Move My฀mother฀wants฀to฀stay by฀the฀phone,฀wants฀to฀sift through฀all฀the฀letters. The฀ice฀has฀built฀up on฀the฀roof,฀hangs in฀dripping฀exclamation marks฀along฀the฀gutters. She฀wants฀to฀know฀about the฀end฀tables,฀wonders if฀anyone฀will฀want฀the฀desk. She฀has฀twenty-three฀creamers. Along฀the฀hallway฀hang the฀photographs฀of฀her฀father, his฀mother,฀cousins,฀grandchildren, my฀father฀in฀his฀Army฀uniform, my฀sister฀and฀her฀family.฀She looks฀out฀the฀window.฀The฀sky is฀the฀color฀of฀the฀clay my฀father฀worked฀to฀grow his฀vegetables฀and฀flowers. She฀asks฀me฀about฀the฀daybed on฀the฀porch.฀I฀put฀the฀garden฀tools in฀my฀car,฀come฀back฀in. She’s฀looking฀at฀my฀father’s฀shoes. She฀asks฀me฀about฀her฀newspaper. ...

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