Last night when I prayed I held my hands together tightly, close to my heart. An old woman appeared and asked me what I wanted. More than divulging my desires, I wanted to know who SHE was. With a sympathetic giggle she told me that she was the one who knew what I wanted.
Scanning her colorful, lively attire and glistening, long, white hair, that sense of familiarity rushed over me as I realized that I had met her before.
The question then became, why do I keep forgetting her?
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