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Plowing Season

Michael’s wish was simple. He had been a farmer his whole life; it was plowing season and he wanted simply to watch his son plow the field. It took a portable oxygen tank, a few warm blankets and a hoist into the car, but there he sat for hours at the corner of his hundred acre farm and watched his son plow the fields one last time. With a contented smile on his face, he was able to eat a full meal of meat and potatoes for dinner that night for the first time in months.

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