The next day when I got home from school Mama was already home. She was tearing up the grass in front of the house. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I'm planting a garden," she said. "A flower garden?" I asked. "It's December. Winter is coming and the flowers will die. Why don't you plant a garden in the spring?" She looked up, as if I had just asked her the oddest question in the world. "There are some flowers that bloom in winter. Petunias, pansies..." As I sit here now, many years later, I remember her saying that like it was yesterday. There are some flowers that bloom in winter. I think she was talking about herself.
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