Excerpts of the Day

 

Her grandmother used to say that relatives shouldn’t die in winter because their just too hard to bury.  Every winter she vowed to live and every spring she promised to die, a commitment she renewed even after her lifespan spilled beyond its first century.

 

 

As the crocuses awakened from their frosty slumber daubing smudges of lavender between the mossy tracts of sod and the twinkling patches of snow, her grandmother died.  She left her life when it was practical to leave, ever mindful of the burden she never wanted to be.

 

Click to continue  

 

Excerpts from The Eyes to See Grace: 

Soloist©2007

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Excerpt of the Day, Fiction Writing, Minnesota Fiction

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s