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The Fruit of Her Hands

My mother had intended to get rid of the old pillows. Taking them out her back door one summer day, she walked with them to the middle of the woods on her farm in the mountains of North Carolina. Finding an open spot, she shook the pillow tickings, dumping the feathers into a pile on the ground, and then she squatted down to examine them. To outside eyes she must have looked strange—a 70-year-old woman looking at a pile of feathers. But having released the feathers, she could not walk away, for she realized that she remembered them. The🔒

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Rebecca A. Payne is a member of Red Cedar Meeting in Lansing, Michigan. She is a mail carrier for the U.S. Postal Service.


Posted in: Features, February 2001

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