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Rosemary Lacroix
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Rosemary Lacroix
Home
About Rosemary
The Lost Journal Legacy
The Archive
The Confessional
Contact
Home
About Rosemary
The Lost Journal Legacy
The Archive
The Confessional
Contact

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I always thought my grandmother was an open book.

She was the smell of lavender, the sound of garden shears, and the quiet comfort of a woman who never missed Sunday mass. But when I sat in that hospital room, watching the rhythm of the machines, I “I always thought my grandmother was an open book.

She was the smell of lavender, the sound of garden shears, and the quiet comfort of a woman who never missed Sunday mass. But when I sat in that hospital room, watching the rhythm of the machi