This week’s old piece is quite short but very special to me as it is a piece in remembrance of my great-grandmother who had passed last year. I kept my thought simple, for she was a simple woman.
Winnie’s Warm Winds
Warm winds, start out as a silent summer day. Whirling, flowing, moving uninterrupted up until contact. The invasive contact with skin, raised moisture responding. But how does it differ from another person’s warm touch? Maybe it isn’t. Maybe warm winds lack the heart behind it that conveys a shared moment between two overwhelmed by love.
How about Winnie’s?
If you close your eyes momentarily, you wouldn’t know the difference — the haunting presence of the mother you could never forget.