The Last Day With Her

I would climb up the mango tree as Mama sat under,just to get a juicy mango for her.
She wore the hat she spent the previous week sewing, to replace the hair that no longer stood atop her scalp.
She would wear her same old clothes that we stored away for her until she had returned from the hospital,
but now they fit her like a curtain wrapped around a doll.
She looked sick and weak, her bones poking out from under the clothes.
Uncle said she was fineand that the doctors said a nice, juicy mango would make her feel all the better.
She was fragile and looked small as she quivered in the wind like the weed at her feet.
I took care of Mama,
for Granny had told me that soon enough she would get to see God.

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