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Little Laura By: Kameron Duncan Later that night, I sat on the porch with my grandmother, and we talked about my mother's childhood. I had convinced her, after several minutes, that my being there would do no harm, and she was finally starting to open up.

"Your mother was born September 17th 1971." My grandmother told me. I was shocked by her voice. It sounded just like I remembered it, soft and Southern, but this time it was different as well. It was stronger, clearer, than I was used to. "Only three pounds, your mother. They called her Little Laura. Still do." I nodded, looking out into the dark cornfields beyond the reach of the lamppost at the end of the old dirt driveway. "Little Laura." I repeated, smiling. "She told me about that. Dad, too." My grandmother smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "Ah, so shedoes marry. What's he like?" I laughed. "That's a secret." She ran her fingers though her hair that hadn't yet turned the white I'm used to. "You're a charming young lady. I can't wait to meet you." I smiled. "Thanks, grandma. It'll be a while, though."

At that moment, a little girl poked her head out onto the porch, rubbing big tired eyes. "Mommy?" My grandmother stands, smiling at me. "This'll only be a moment, dear." She placed a hand on the little girl's back. "Come on


Little Laura, back to bed. Mommy's busy right now." I marveled at the little girl I've only seen in photo albums, looking back at me as she's ushered inside the house. "Goodnight!" She called in a tinkling little voice. I waited until the door was firmly closed to reply.

"Goodnight, Mom."

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