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Impression

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I never noticed it before so it got me to thinking.

Just outside the barn, there’s a tiny handprint that marks the spot where one small soul has been. Declaring his presence. Leaving an impression. An indelible reminder. His mark on this world.

Where, I wonder, is this little boy now? I look up at momma and ask her to wait. We pause for a moment. Have I made such an impression that I will be so remembered?

When you see a sky shot with vermilion, momma, will it remind you of me? When the fury of a winter storm stills all that it touches, will you think of me then? 

If I should have to go someday, when a light rain kisses your face, know that it is just me, momma. I have come back to say hello.

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