Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
May 30, 1893 Dearest John. It finally arrived. I was scared that it wouldn’t get here in time for your birthday but it came on the train yesterday. Daddy will be angry but there’s nothing he can do about it now. When I saw our names together I fell to my knees. I love you… Continue reading Dearest John
She sat on the breakwater and hoped the sound of the waves would soothe her. His words hadn’t. “In between the clover and the dampened earth.” That’s how the minister described it. Sounded poetic. Nicer than “here’s where we buried her body.” But that was reality. Ma was dead. And no pretty words were going… Continue reading The Breakwater
She sat at the edge of the stream and stared at the house. Their home. The tumbling water reminded her of a song. She could hear the melody in her head. But the words just wouldn’t come. It’s not fair. Songs are not her department. TV shows and historical facts. But not songs. That’s his… Continue reading Their Home
mysterious mounds ~ ancient memories entombed ~ their sorrow remains ~ \ Writing Prompt thanks to Putting My Feet in the Dirt
