he’s not wearing his leg. And, by the time I was finished and covered in mud like blood, I stood up and smiled and I could almost hear the plants resting themselves and whispering little promises like prayers of their own about how they’re going to grow up someday and bear fruit and really enjoy the sunshine in the afternoons and offer what they make to people who need them. But, truth be told, even though I was happy to help those plants, I did it for Ms. Mills and for Mama and for Alvin, and I suppose I did it a little bit for me too because it made me feel good when Ms. Mills got home and Mama was helping her up her walkway and she saw more of what I had done with the popsicle sticks than what the hail had done with its beaten, and then she smiled and winked a little to me, and that’s when I realized that what I liked best about Ms. Mills had just taken root in me. My name is Cecelia, but that day, Ms. Mills called me Cessie because of her new voice, and so I’ve been Cessie ever since, and I like to think of myself as one of her plants, the only one of my kind.
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