Mysterious Ways

The Typo

“I don’t see why we can’t stay,” my daughter Tara said. Again. She was trying to keep her voice down. But even the smallest noise carried in the stark, still waiting room of the hospital, where, in a room down the hall, my mother lay dying.

“We’re adults, Mom,” my daughter Jonelle said. “We want to stay.”

I sighed. My daughters weren’t going to

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