“And it was,” he said, “as though the heavens opened, I swear to God; the clouds at that very moment split apart like the Red Sea rising, and the sun striking through, fell warm and heavy on my back;
no, not heavy, but as a light hand on my shoulder, bird-boned, filigreed.
It was as though my father reached out of heaven to tell me, all is forgiven; you are loved.” He sighed out, spent.
The weary-wrinkled doctor leaned back a little further in his leather chair.
“Tell me about your Mother,” he began.
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