The box...

It sat on the shelf of the bookcase for as long as I can remember.

I never really thought too much about it or what was in it, it was just there.

Sitting next to the bowl of wax fruit and  the battered copy of  The Fannie Farmer Cook Book

When my mother died it took me quite a while to go through her things and when I did my heart just wasn't in it at the time.

Then I came to the box.

It was filled with small pieces of all sorts and colors of scraps of paper and on each one she had written a wish, a prayer.

Some were big, some small, some were long, some were short.

Some just one word.

But there they were hundreds of hopes and wishes and prayers all slipped  into the old oak box.

Quietly waiting in the hopes that one day they would be heard and answered...




Laura
May 15, 1943-February 6, 2016