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When All is Forgotten

“Bad news, mommy,” my son whispered from his car seat.

I turned around from the front passenger seat and leaned closer to hear.  “I forgot to tell you something,” he said.

I waited.  And then leaned in even more.

“What?” I asked.  “What did you forget to tell?”

The whole van went quiet as my son shrugged both shoulders in silent sadness.

“I forgot.” he said.  His bottom lip sagged. “I wanted to remember, but I forgot.”


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