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to Cincinnati, Cooper was waiting outside my suite with a plastic shovel.
“Grammy, the marigolds are dead.”
“I noticed.”
“But Mommy said spring means try again.”
“She’s right.”
He held out a seed packet.
“Can we plant these?”
I looked at the packet. Zinnias. Bright, stubborn, cheerful flowers.
“Yes,” I said. “We can.”
He frowned. “Are they fancy?”
“No.”
“Good.continue reading …
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