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Gefilte Fish and Ham

(by May Kesler)

My mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was ten or eleven, chestnut curls draping my face as I further hid by sitting in a corner of her room. I was untangling a necklace.

"I dunno," I mumbled my answer, feeling too confronted even though I did want to talk about it.

Still, my mother gently persisted.