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Personal Narrative: One Doesn T Equal

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One plus one doesn’t equal two. I’m aware that mathematically, they equal two. But for me, growing up, one plus one equaled one.
Before I took my first wobbly steps on Roosevelt Ave, I was born to a single mother, whose shoes I’d see more than her face. Whether I was feeding koi fish at Baiyun Mountain or scootering down Woodhaven Boulevard, most of my childhood was spent at my grandmother’s feet. She read stories of monkeys who built treehouses weeks before monsoon season. She yelled at me for taking the goldfish out to “pet” it (he didn’t make it). At nine PM, my mother shuffled in, her heels clacking to the beat of a lullaby. She looked at the fish and shook her head, acting out of reflex. The body bag in hand, we flushed him down, where

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