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Where to look for truth

April 3, 2017

During the spring’s unexpected snowstorms, the pine tree across the street lost branches. A rock in the creek out back halved, cleaved by ice as strong as a chisel.

I don’t recognize our land, she said, suddenly more tired than she had ever been. They’d gotten word their child’s free meals at school might be cut, and she fixated on the grocery budget every minute she wasn’t worried about something else.

She had grown up believing the daily words about the flag and the Republic. Now, adrift in unseasonable cold, she didn’t know where to look for truth.

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