I love to think that the day you’re born,
you’re given the world as a birthday present.
The past has floated away like fluff on a dandelion as the prairie winds blow across the old abandoned yard. The young girl’s grandmother has long since passed away, but the old house from her childhood still stands as if to be a testament to her very existence.
The skeleton of a house is what remains, but in the mind are memories… laughter, tears, struggle and joy are carried by the wind as it flows through the empty windows. Heat radiating from the wood burning stove, smells of fresh baked bread permeating the air, the cluck of chickens in the coop to the sound of chicken sizzling as it fries in the old cast iron skillet…