The Warmth of What Is Passed Down
This morning, I put on my grandfather’s black wool coat and his winter hat. My parents brought them for me the last time they visited. I slipped them on almost absent-mindedly and then paused. They fit me just right.It is bitterly cold here. A snow storm blanketed the area yesterday, the icey slush crunching under our feet as we walked from our house up to the church. So I wore the coat and hat…
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