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Mother put on her apron and turned on the stove as she set to work making dinner. The house was dark except for the light emanating from the kitchen, and silent except for the music coming from the radio Mother liked to listen to while she cooked. I love my mannn, tell the world I do. It was hard, working alone. The kitchen was small, and Mother had so many ingredients. But she was good at cooking, oh yes. Guests always praised the dishes she would bring to parties and potlucks, and hers were the favorite of any church picnic. Meat was sharply minced as her knife sang to a melody of its own- Lord, I love my mannn, tell the world I do! Today, dinner was to be especially wonderful, with the whole family together for one sumptuous feast. Even the dog seemed to recognize the importance of this meal, for he lingered in the kitchen corner and refused to eat any scraps.

When Mother was done, she placed each dish with care on the dining room table before sinking a spoon into a warm bowl of stew. She sighed with satisfaction.

“Aren’t you just delicious, Sam?”



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