So I wrote a book, sorta , once....

About my Gram, the woman who lived 100 yards from my house, who helped raised me everyday of my life.
And I wrote it as a healing process for myself some 11 years ago.
And it DID heal me.
I came across the document on my backup file and I realized I need to store it somewhere else, other than in print form and on here, so I am going to post the short stories that make the book every once in awhile, just so Audrey has them.

I guess the first little snippet of these short stories is the place to start
SOME OF THIS IS TRUE, AND SOME OF IT MY HEART JUST MADE UP.



Clean Air


I remember the smell that permeated from the small house in the bend of the dirt road, steamed cabbage and spicy perfume.  It circled through the kitchen, out through the screen door, and onto the porch.  My grandparents lived there, comfortably.  They had journeyed three hours away from the hustle and bustle of the city.  Towering trees and hills surrounded their little white house.  On the guided words of my grandfather’s doctor, they moved into the clean mountain air.  It would clear his lungs of emphysema.  I was born into that clean air.  He died there when I was just 10 years old.