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  • building in Ankara, Turkey, 1976, I remembered my mother, Peggy Maureen, pulling out of our parking spot behind the Spartan apartment house, in a red VW hatchback in which she seemed happy, happier, in a printed A-line dress, by herself, maybe coming back maybe from the bakery, her hair is short and wavy, I remember few of such moments, vivid if calm, in desolate landscape for someone from the Palouse, with so many girlhood friends, green, lush like Christmas, close and ever forbearing. and I reflect now on my own motherhood which has had these qualities of being lost except for the Subaru, in a cultural New England, Connecticut but not Vermont landscape, dull winters without much snow, dense short cut forests, and hanging plants, I, with all my wisdom, practices, and language proficiencies haven't navigated with that much success though I have good relationships with the clerks at the grocery store and a few families with dogs. my dresses don't have the splash quality my mother's did, her grandmother was a seamstress, maybe that's why I don't or I haven't ever made enough money to buy more than one dress but it musn't be that simple.
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