My feet are bare as I run through the pasture.  Calluses, built over years of refusal to wear shoes, give them a protective layer all their own.  Long, dark hair billows behind me--a knot of tangle and wave. My mind is full of one thought, one intention: Grandma’s house. I will sit at her feet and help shell peas while she tells me stories. Maybe she will comb my hair and braid it. We will sit quiet together, while the wind rustles the curtains in the breezeway and she twiddles her … [Read more...]