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Grandpa's first wife painted the oil that hung in Grandma's living room forty years more than I was old - distant mountains, deep forest, giant boulders, a single bird swooping low over still water, never changing - and it was there every time we ran to Grandma to escape the madness of Dad's drinking binge. Mom would take us back after the hangover tamed his rage, but I always closed my eyes and wished for the magic Mary used to enter Bert's sidewalk drawing. |
