Part - 01
The middle of November was still quite nice and comfortable to sit outside on the deck. Still hovering in double digits, which was a rare gift for that time of the year. I was up extra early Saturday morning. The garden needed pruning and it promised to be a perfect day for a final yard clean-up before the winter kicked in.
I spent all day clipping, raking and bagging everything that was out of place. And as the sun called it a day and cased it's gray shadow on our backyard. I took out the washed, almost seemed polished yellow lawn mower.
Your sister Morgan sat on the step of our freshly built deck reading the final chapter of my journal as I pushed the yellow grass cutting machine over the already bleeding grass, again and again. Not one blade of grass was spared from the deadly spinning blade I pushed around.
She placed the journal beside her on the step where she sat wrapped in my oversized blue jacket, and with the expression on her face changed to a smile, I realized that she finally understood.
Upon realizing that the yellow folder was closed, I turned off my cutting machine, looked over at her and simply said.
See last entry "Morgan"
- Thomas - Nov. 2014