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Mom


I'm running. Flying. Heart beating, feet pounding. Not from something, but to. It holds its arms to catch me, and I run into them. The warmth of the embrace frees me. The love in that smile feeds me. The confidence in that encouragement seizes me. And I cry. To the outside world, I'm fearless. Tearless. Careless. But she knows better. After all, I am her daughter.
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Comments (1)

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda
<p>Powerful expression!&nbsp;</p>

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