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Personal blog of christian
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Unto The Third GenerationA little tidbit I found this morning in the fallible archives, circa March, 2002: “I just know there’s a book inside of me,” my grandmother said matter-of-factly, when I was a wee girl. And then we made a fabulous pie from homegrown peaches, which we devoured that night with pan-fried chicken and biscuits and garden-fresh green beans. “There’s a book in me, waiting to come out,” she insisted, when I was only thirteen, but she was sixty-three. I had to wonder, what’s it waiting for? And then she taught me how to sew, and to knit, and to embroider, and to paint with oils and watercolors. But she didn’t write a word. “I’ve got a story,” she said one day, when I was all grown at nineteen, with the beginnings of a story of my own. And then she died, never knowing how completely she’d written volumes on the pages of my life. I’ve got a book in me, just waiting to come out.
Posted by Katy on 09/02/08 at 06:43 PM
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