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Byron, Illinois 
In my grandmother’s bedroom when you walked in, on the left hand side was her cedar chest then a tiny closet. Inside this closet was the most fantastic pastel pink flowered wallpaper. Maybe the wallpaper wasn’t pastel to begin with, just years of age made it look that way. I can still hear the noisy locust as the hot summer breeze gently blew her sheer white lace curtains, almost in a rhythm  with those farmers pests. The lace curtains were so delicate and as a child, I saw many different faces etched in the lace. I had names for these faces as they were my friends. I slept on the right side of her bed. She on the left. I miss you grandma.

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