How The Sun Was Low

She moves slowly taking her first few steps, and approaches the handsome young man in front of her. Their eyes connect with one another, and the connection is not to be broken despite every distraction surrounding the two. They are both remembering their younger days. The days of a boy meeting a girl. The days of holding hands as they ran up and down these grounds just for play. The days of so much laughter, games, and unconditional affection. Oh how they had missed each other’s company, and both feel the calm on their

“I remember diagonals of sunlight in the late afternoon, drawn across its flat expanse, transversed by my grandfather’s hand as he swept it through whatever story he was telling, to highlight the words with motion, to motion us closer to the words.” I visualize he grandfather, a wrinkled, elderly man with tanned skin, telling stories to his grandchildren. I reminisce on my grandfather; long gone for some time now, whom was kind and encouraged my spunk.

Carl loved his dad very much and it was painful seeing the chair in living room where his dad had sat holding him, many times as he was growing up reading Bible story. Donald sometimes didn’t always have a lot of time for his son, but he always spent quality time with Carl when he had every opportunity. Ruth was helping family friend prepare another platter of sandwiches for guests. Everyone knew that Ruth wasn’t the type to be waited on and she took pleasure in serving and caring for those who had come to pay their respects to her husband. She never knew there were so many who cared. There were many there, especially friends. She never in her life had imagined that Donald had relationship with so many people. Many she never knew or met before. Over in corner, sat the younger woman, quietly she sipped on her tea. Ruth watched her from the kitchen and thought she looked lonely there. Carl walked into the kitchen, headed over to coffee pot to pour him another cup of coffee. “Carl,” Ruth spoke as she handed Carl the sugar, “Do you see the woman sitting near your dad’s chair?” Carl looked up, while stirring his coffee. “Yes, mom, I do. Why?” Carl asked. “No one is talking to her and she sits there alone. I feel sad for her. Do you know who she is?” Ruth asked. “No, mamma I sure don’t. Never saw her before. Do you want me to talk to her?” Carl asked as he walked toward living room. “No, maybe you better not, I’m just trying to place who she is. I feel like I know her, but can’t place where,” Ruth said as she smiled to her son. “Ok, mamma, you really should relax and let others take care of everything,” Carl said. “Here’s a sandwich, now get outta here,” Ruth laughed as she carried another tray out to the table in living

The trip back home in the rickety, old wagon, was bone jarring to say the least. Every turn of the wheel, tightened a vice around Charity's heart, causing it to feel heavier and heavier. For the first few miles, she sat quietly, thinking exclusively about her life with her grandparents. How they had always been a part of her life; her earliest memories. She had no memory of her mother and father- all she really knew about them was what her grandparents told her. Her grandmother and grandfather, were the only parents she’d ever known. After seeing Eli, she had a faint recollection of seeing him sometime before, maybe when she was small. And, other than Tokola, the old Indian man that came often to the cabin, they were the only people she’d ever

That night Sally was in bed and she heard some noises, but she didn't think much about it. She got up to see what it was. It was Aunt Sally sleep walking! Aunt Sarah came into Sally’s room and fell on her! Sally tried to get her off, but when she woke up, she screamed at Sally! That’s when Sally knew she had to do something about Aunt Sarah.

She was late to her friend’s house. Her mind became so easily distracted by the mix of bright colors on the small, portable, handheld device. Jolted back to the reality of what little time was allotted for packing; she took purposeful grabs containing bare necessities for the night with the clock still ticking away behind her. One by one, Della dropped items into her black and white, polka dotted, drawstring bag. And then out the door- like a dazed New Yorker rushing through the station to get to the departing subway-- she left her modern yet plain house, only saying goodbye to her mother. Her father hadn’t lived there for years.

The protagonist provokes the audience to sympathize with the announcement of his mother’s death. He quickly rallies this with the disclosure of his “somewhat strained” relationship with his parents (605). Then, the protagonist goes on to address that it took him two years to learn about the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death. In any given circumstances, including “somewhat strained” relationship, it is beyond normal for anyone to take over two years to get acquainted with his/her mother’s death. Later on, the father goes on to reveal that he and the mother were ready to welcome the protagonist back despite them being “upset by his behavior” (606). This displays the one-sided effort put into their relationship. As the whole family seated themselves for the dinner, a family dinner, after a long time, this following incident ruined the charm and mood of the reunion.

her journey here she always presumed. The earth beneath her scorched her bare feet. The

As she began to come back down to Earth, she realized the state of herself, and knew that it was something that would have to be remedied before leaving the building. As that raced through her mind, she

The night was dark, and deathly silent, the only sound was coming from my sleeping grandmother. The air was stale the in living room; where I made my sick-bed. My grandmother’s breathing was rhythmic; soft and shallow. The faint scent of the farm clinging to her, she smelt of horses, sheep and earth. The odor hanging from her as if she came from the deepest parts of the ancient earth, her voice was gritty and sleep filled.

The clackety clack sound of horse hooves on cobbled street and a jingling of harnesses drew Allie’s attention to the street below; she stood to watch as Eli alights from the Harris family carriage and tells the driver, George, to pick him up in two hours. Always courteous and a proper Southern gentleman, Eli never stayed longer than two hours, which was the appropriate amount of time allowed for visiting with friends and family, otherwise, he said, you might wear out your welcome.

“Myra,” I greeted, coming up beside my mother. “You look stunning.” Her eyes widened, but she’d been told what to expect.

The day was murky, dark a bitter wind nibbling at my ankles, arms, and nose as I stood upon a hill observing the view before me. My great grandma had just been laid to rest at the end of her sunset to join my great grandpa, who I never met. Wearing my sensible black formal flats with my nice fitting black blouse and skirt below my knees, I ponder the life I could recall from my great grandmother’s life and can admit she changed with older age. To see her come from the nice lady I knew as a young child to the grumpy women I had last saw before her deathbed.

I woke suddenly as the cool morning air bit at my face, telling me it was nearly morning and another day had begun. I am seventeen today which means that today will be the day I ask Alma’s parents if they’ll allow us to have a courtship. That was the only thing on my mind when I heard my father calling me, knowing we needed to eat before we left on a hunt.

“Hello Jessica. How are you today?” Casey asks, as I lean against the door. I shrug, as a reply. “Do you want me to get Elisia? She’s upstairs, painting.” Casey says, and I nod. Casey picks up Raun and walks upstairs, to Elisia’s room, I’m guessing. In a moment, Elisia herself is standing in front of me, a big smile on her face.