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Bells ringing…

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I remember the Bubble Gum, the high-top tennis shoes, with knots in the strings—I remember the push mower and the four leaf clovers that held the promises of luck—the bells ringing in the suburbs and the homemade Kool-Aid popsicles in fridge—I remember,”Horton Hears a Who” and the scent of rain somewhere near, and the smell of fried onions coming from the kitchen—I remember Legos and numbers on wooden blocks and the day Elvis died and bells ringing in the suburbs. 

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