I set the journal on my lap and dapped my eyes with a tissue. Grandma had a lot of pain, rage & hope in her heart. I’d wished she shared it with more people. I sat, staring out the window. The clouds had begun to release snow showers. For the first time in forever, snow arrived before Thanksgiving. I just knew people would be out sledding tomorrow and lovers would drink hot eggnog and rum. I took in Grandma’s writings as something bigger than myself, something bigger than what she believed them to be. These journal entries paint a picture of who she was and what she believed.
I picked up the journal to continue to read.