The land had held her
tightly for over two decades, ever since the day she’d fallen in love with it.
It was Hope for a
time when she could bring her family to it, after the bad times.
It was Joy at the building
of a home and a homestead growing as quickly as their son.
The son grew up and
moved away, as they do, and her husband died after a summer of one damn thing
after another, and after that its hold loosened with each subsequent loss:
gently, kindly, quietly, till one day…
It was time to go.
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