She held onto her sister's hand as they carefully climbed the steep hillside. It had been their tradition for many years to do that each fall when their Mother's smoke bush leaves started to turn brilliant colors. Her old knees didn't make the journey as easily as once had been the case, especially when they were both younger, and before that dreadful day. Leaving had been painful and their tradition had ceased. Oh why did I agree to come back, she thought. In a moment of weakness and partly out of curiosity she'd given into her sister's invitation to come.
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