166 The Meadow when a gem stone hits bottom. I need more grace than I thought to lift me, to let go of me. I need a reason to shed my sweatpants to wear a white dress, a straw hat, the old strappy espadrilles. To let down my long hair. I need more grace than I thought or just to know she’s there in front of me with her hands in the dirt, designing her posies—bouquets of dandelion and wild violet delivering the wigglers to my lilacs, chewing on a whisp of her sun-streaked hair.
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