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Bound To Remember

My grandma’s house was always full. The hinges on the front door were almost invisible. In the heart of Cleveland, Ohio, not a side town along the way, but real Cleveland, is where I stayed. In the white paneled house with red

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My Grandmother’s Hands

As Bill Withers plays in the background about grandma’s hands, I look down at my own. I have my grandmother’s hands. They are small with fat fingers. I once was told they looked like Vienna sausages. I simply laughed and said, “No

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Couslings: A 23andMe story

“Have you considered writing a book about your life?” It is likely someone has asked you this question, or maybe you have asked someone. Before my ancestry journey, I never thought of my life as interesting enough to manifest into spilled ink,

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Finding Mama

Let me start by giving my parents the grace they deserve. My mother was only sixteen when she had me, and the only thing I know about my parents’ relationship is that they loved each other, and I was wanted. They always

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