While we were waiting for the storm to pass, she told us all about her life and how her husband had been killed in World War II, and how she had raised her three children all by herself on this very farm, and how one of her sons had gotten killed in Vietnam and the other had been run over by a tractor when he was only sixteen, and how her daughter had gotten married and lived in California now and only wrote her a couple of times a year. I started to feel pretty sorry for her, and was so thankful for her taking care of me and giving us the hot chocolate and the pie and all that, that I decided that I wasn't going to drop her from the paper route after all. From the way she talked, getting the paper seemed to be the highlight of her day, so who was I to spoil her fun?
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