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at age eight. “We can’t not have a washing machine, Dad.”
“I know,” I said.
Hazel joined her siblings, hugging her stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest. Her voice was small and worried. “Are we poor?”
The question hit harder than it should have. I knelt down to her level, trying to find the right words—honest but not scary.
“We’re resourceful,” I finally continue reading …
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