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Send this to a friend Your email Recipient email Send Cancel. April 9, at 5: July 12, at 9: I felt her hand touch my backside and rub my cheeks and I could tell they were the grandmothers hands. No one is resting up for the next time, the next bright chance to bed down. Song of the meadowlark, song of the thrush—well, I find these things sexy. I just wanted my mom at that point. The Best Books of