Scraped Knees

 

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Photo: Robert S. Donovan

Me’n a little boy had a nice long chit chat the other evening at the library. Eventually he rolled up his pant leg and thrust his knee as high as he could, “I fell down,” he crowed.

There was a teeny tiny, almost healed completely, scab on his knee.
“Oh, it looks like you survived pretty good,” I responded. “Did you cry?”
“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, “But I’m healing.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “That’s what we do.”

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