EVENING IN PARIS She accepts traveling to far away places is in the past, acknowledging that each last visit stamped a ceremony of finality into the recesses of her heart. Living large with an executive in the mainstream of corporate life, my mom was led to points across the globe. Often moving, many homes sheltered us from upstate New York to Southern California. Rooted in Virginia with grandchildren throughout the country, her reach is far. Living with a husband whose memories disappear like a candle on a windy day, she has to keep lighting it. The warmth it provides is fleeting yet all she has. He is there and he is not Sixty years of marriage Vows of a lifetime. Evening in Paris was what I bought for my mom, my pennies saved up. Magic in a beautiful cobalt blue bottle, perfume so exotic and…Continue Reading
Monarch butterfly dances into view. Miniature stained glass windows illuminate my world. Grandaddy preached in tiny Virginia churches, where white steeples reached above the countryside, idle cows grazed and silence prevailed. Until Sunday when paper fans fluttered in every woman’s hands to ward off the summer heat, moving the morning’s message into willing parishioners. Colorful dresses, Sunday’s best clothes tight fitting collars and once-a-week suits filled the pews. Joy and community emanated throughout the building and beyond. Quiet sermons hymnals held open and shared. Songs of centuries Belief So far to come, so far to go. Every Sunday morning I grew up.
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