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Tell her I love her




  Christmas Eve. Customers streaming in through the cold and freshly fallen snow to enjoy the warmth and breakfast. Marge was waiting on a customer. Ruth was cooking. The hash round timer was beeping. And of course, the phone was ringing.

"I got it," I yelled to Ruth, grabbing the hash rounds out of the oil and shaking them before heading back to the phone.

"How can I help you?"

"Hi, I was just wondering if my mom, Janice is working," a voice on the other end said. "I'm her daughter, Rachel"

"Janice is on break right now," I said. "Can she call you when she gets back?"

There was a pause, then, "I haven't talked...well, could I just leave a message."

"Sure," I said, wondering.

"Tell her I don't want to disappoint her, and that I love her."

There was a catch in her voice.

Suddenly I heard a daughter calling across many miles to talk to her mother on Christmas, needing to say those important words after how long?

"I'll tell her, Rachel," I said, my voice soft. "And have a merry Christmas."



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