The Widows

A young mother in a spring dress, her damp hair in an imperfect but elegant coiffure, slowly pushed a pram past the lamppost and the great stairs. All of the doves greeted the child with rapturous flight, soaring high towards the tree tops and church spires. One childless widow looked at the young woman in disgust—hurling silent contempt on the beautiful line of her calves, the curve of her cheek, the deep blue in the eyes of her angelic child. The widow loudly remarked: I wonder if you know how blessed you are? A second widow, also childless, standing not far from the first, answered: Of course she knows! I wonder if you’ll ever know how much she and her child are the blessing!

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