Tuesday, March 11, 2008
"She turned the rose hips in her hands. "I do not rely upon seeing these roses budding here again in the spring time," she said. Her voice was neither sad nor frightened, simply matter-of-fact. But the expression on my face must have been dreadful for she came to me then and folded me in her arms. "We cannot know the future nor can we change it," she whispered gently. "It is best to be realistic about such things. But we have the time we have been given. So let us treasure it while we can."
Posted by Harold Olejarz at 6:29 PM