Reader comment on Joy Harjo's passage ...

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    On Jul 2, 2019 Wendy Noyes wrote:

    Remembering is the silent act that happens when we lie down at night and see a star shoot through midnight. Softly and in a split second of light I remember my father laughing, his extra large hand curling around my small girl’s knee, squeezing in just those sensitive spots that make my whole leg tingle. “Horse bite” he whispers without looking away from the road. We are in the front seat of his Cadillac that has a bench seat. My Mom is next me. We are coming home from fishing together. We have caught nothing but each others’ closeness. I remember being loved by my parents, in the black of nights, in the burning sun of day. Thank you to Joy for reminding me to remember.

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