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August 24, 2011
I knew her for only a few brief days. A tiny raisin of a woman with a puff of curly white hair, her smile lit up the room and made everyone giggle.

"Groovy," she'd say.

I adored her. She was wise and silly and wonderful. She was the mentor I'd always wanted (albeit without the dreadlocks and southern accent). She made me want to tell her everything and to listen to everything she said.

But there was a warning deep inside my heart. She wouldn't be my teacher. She couldn't help me. I would have to learn on my own.