June 4th, 1857 The sky is crying. So am I. The rain drowns the small blue flower in my hands. I let the petals wash away, one by one. I stare at the brown heap in front of me, praying that my father will jump out from the dirt and hold me safe. He ain’t even...
August 8, 1850 “Can you get Cecelia? Or Kate?” My younger brother’s voice wobbled through the damp darkness. I sat up, facing the sick bay on the other side of the hold where two lanterns cast wavering flickers of light across the floor. “They’re taking care of Papa,”...
“For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” “Sir,” they said, “always give us this bread.” John 6.33-34 Sonia. Sonia. My beautiful Sonia. How I loved Sonia. How I miss her. Will you let me tell you about Sonia? Close...
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