My mother brought her back: a stillness in a towel which I cradled in my arms for hours. And I stroked the impressed absence of her collar made a study of her gnarled, calcified joints. I hoisted one of her eyelids so that we could look at one another and I thanked her for the magic in my childhood. Then I shoveled a hole and gave her gently to the ground. In the hand-packed soil above I earthed a sapling for her to nourish, that its roots in turn might grow strong and cradle around her like my arms.
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