Jenkins was more like a mother to me than anyone. She was sweet and took care of me, really a grandma figure that I loved a whole lot. But as happy as...I was with her, it wasn't meant to last.She died when I was 12, almost 13. Both daddy and I cried while holding each other. She went in her sleep, peaceful and I'm glad she did. Dad said that she was just old and it was her time. I still miss her to this very day.I mentioned earlier that my dad was a story teller. I gave you one example when I. He asserted many times to me that a strong, healthy body assures a healthy mind. I believed him to be speaking the truth, as I believed all things he told me.My concerns were minimal, my curiousities unbounded. I had friends, but shared little with them beyond the pleasures of chasing after a ball, and kicking it into a net. My teachers permitted my silent, private nature. My parents gave me gentle affection and respect; feeding my body in the dining room, my heart in the music room, my mind in. 'Or get on your knees.' David had never met the man, but knew him to be a demanding task master. Other than that he knew little about the man. Karen took a sip of the coffee as she read her emails and texts. "Oh, that's good," she said. "Thanks." She headed over to the door to the garage and set her coffee down as she struggled into her heels. David enjoyed the view from behind. Her skirt rode high up her legs as she bent over, the top seam of her thigh-high stockings just barely visible from. "I am tempted to pull your stitches out with my tweezers," shethreatened.She said she had to go do some work in the office downstairs but that Iwas free to use the MacBook if I wished. She dressed quickly and gave mea last kiss and was about to walk through the door when she stopped andlooked back."Oh, and don't forget Kritsada is coming this evening to see us. We'regoing to have drinks up here and then we'll have dinner in therestaurant." With that, she waved goodbye and skipped down the.
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