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A compassionate delivery

March 17, 2017

My grandmother’s family escaped the Great Famine for the hard land at the edge of the St. Lawrence. Not long before she died, I visited her, and she sent me off to get my own dinner. She wanted to be there to receive the man from town who delivered her Meals on Wheels three days a week. They shared stories of the Ice Storm, of families, of their days. He nourished her with company, then left her to eat, to tuck away leftovers for the next day. She may not always have been full, but she was never hungry.

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