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remembering my dad

My father played this song on his harmonica so many times, I often ‘hear’ it as though he were in the room.

Music and aromas can bring memories to the fore and although there are tears, it is because of the joy in remembering.

Ah . . . may we never forget what is worth remembering and never remember what is best forgotten.

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About hopeseguin

Who am I? I'm still discovering just who I am, I suppose. A. Powell Davis writes that "Life is just a chance to grow a soul."

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