My sister Ginny said "Write your autobiography." Here is a running jump at a beginning paragraph.
My Mama was doing fine, good grades in school and all, until she met that smooth-talking boy from Alabama. Next thing she knew, she had five kids, he couldn't keep a job, and finally he just left. A strong woman, she kept on, keeping us kids and her together while she worked in a cotton mill, then as a waitress and as a cashier. Except for one time when she had to parcel us kids out to relatives. But we got back together again. Never apart in spirit.
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