strong roots is sadness
blueberries “Squelch” beneath my feet
sticky it never leave
About the Creator
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Christmas At The Cabin
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A- frame cabin. My mind floods with memories of being a little girl again screaming, laughing, and playing in the snow. Mom would bound my siblings and I really tight we could scarcely breath. Layer our hands with mittens making sure not an inch of us was left uncovered. Dad would pick up the younger ones and put them front seat of the old blue truck. Us older ones clamored in the back. Off we were. First to haul in wood was, cut, loaded, and unloaded by the back door we would all clamor back in including mom, and go pick out the perfect tree.
By Faith MaryEllen Caselmanabout a year ago in Families
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