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I remember how she wake us up in the morning.  I was a kid, three, four-years-old.

In Vietnam, banana, mango have distinct fragrance. Pineapple.
Grandmother will cut it.  She will lie it by you, open your mosquito net to put it by your nose and smell the fragrant. I will open my eyes. I see piece of fruit. Grandma put it there.

I miss that.

I cut up pear on a plate.  I pick it up, just about to eat. All a sudden behind the bellybutton I got lonely for my grandmother.




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