She Did As She Felt, And She

A Twinge At The Edge Of Her Lips And She Continued, The Soft, Slow Lilt Of Recitation: "ancient Walls That Sing The Distant Hours.

Lil Had Always Believed That A Person's Duty Was To Make The Best Of The Hand They Were Dealt. No Use Wondering What Might Have Been, She Used To Say, All That Matters Is What Is.

The Stretch Of Years Leaves None Unmarked: The Blissful Sense Of Youthful Invincibility Peels Away And Responsibility Brings Its Weight To Bear.

Memory Is A Cruel Mistress With Whom We All Must Learn To Dance.

But Happiness ... Happiness Grows At Our Own Firesides," She Said. "it Is Not To Be Picked In Strangers' Gardens." ~ The House At Riverton