Fiction | September 01, 1979

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Mother’s Day

Every morning the grandfather vigoruously stirs his cup of instant coffee.  He grasps the spoon as in other times the dear-departed grandmother Clotilde had grasped the pestle, or he himself, General Vicente Vergara, had grasped the pommel of the saddle now hanging on his bedroom wall.

Margaret Sayers Peden Translator.

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