"I'm intelligent now, Mom. I can read and write, and I can—"
"Thank God," she whispered. "My prayers—all these years I thought He didn't hear me,"
"but He was listening all the time, just waiting His own good time to do His will."
She wiped her face in her apron, and when I put my arm around her, she wept freely on my shoulder.
All the pain was washed away, and I was glad I had come.
"I've got to tell everyone," she said, smiling, "all those teachers at the school."
"Oh, wait till you see their faces when I tell them. And the neighbors."
"And Uncle Herman—I've got to tell Uncle Herman. He'll be so pleased."
"And wait until your father comes home, and your sister! Oh, she'll be so happy to see you. You have no idea."
She hugged me, talking excitedly, making plans for the new life we were going to have together.
I hadn't the heart to remind her that most of my childhood teachers were gone from this school,
that the neighbors had long moved away, that Uncle Herman had died many years ago, and that my father had left her.
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