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that smile before — at our kitchen table, in courtrooms, in doorways. It was the smile of someone watching a situation they expected to benefit from.
At 18, I Fought to Keep My 7 Siblings Together — Then One Photo Exposed the Truth About Our Parents
My mother’s handwriting was on the back. Compact, slightly hurried, the way she wrote when she was writing something she wanted to get down before she lost her nerve.
