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  • Merci and I have eaten many potatoes together. Sweet Potatoes. Starchy Potatoes. Purple Potatoes. Fired and Fried. Baked and mashed. Boiled and peeled. Mama Merci never ceased to apologize for making potatos. But everyone knew that this was one of the best parts of each day. A time to relax. A break from the fields. A time to talk smack. And this was that part of the day when everyone took delight in my awkward words and hesitant speech. My inappropriate questions. My make-shift grammar. My strange hair. My obvious association with Tom and Jerry. Eventually, this small child, Merci, would take me outside. She showed me her fields. We patiently shared language and made fun of each other's botched and honest efforts. This child of a King took me under her wing and taught me so very much.

    The song I have included with my Merci blip was sung by the most amazing Merci, herself.
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