With Mommy gone, there is a void and sometimes, in family dynamics, in tough situations, in the loneliness that comes from being a daughter without a mother who needs parenting advice, I’ve become older.

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I can't decide what to write: a poem or a story or maybe both.

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I get it from my Mom.  She liked her lipsticks especially.  When I was a preteen, my mom worked at the Chanel makeup counter during the holidays so from October through January I kept the fanciest of lip glosses rattling in my backpack

 

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