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Post by owner on May 31, 2009 19:20:16 GMT -6
Dear Reader,
I never really understood why my grandpa told me to live here. I never understood much of anything until later on. I inherited lots from the Crimsons and I am the only one left. I have a lot of time on my hands, the holidays are not for me. I don't celebrate much of anything anymore, and now, I am a dedicated woman. I remember how all of this started. It started like this . . .
One hot summer evening, my grandfather told me to gather all of our things and put it in the truck. We called moving trucks as well, to get all our belongings. This was our third time moving, and I was sick of it. The ride to this new place was boring. The radio crackled as we began to get out of range. I reached forward and shut off the radio, sighing and curling up into the passenger seat. The window was rolled all the way down and I looked out into the open fields. This place was large and boring, what was my grandpa doing out here? My grandma had died a year ago, and this was the exact day since her death - I though we were going to the cemetery, but instead, we were out in the country. My grandpa grinned as we pulled off the "main" gravel road onto another side road, which was yet again, another gravel road. It was long and curvy, and before long, he stopped the car. There was a lonely house, the sign that said, "For Sale" was being pulled out of the ground by another old man. The house looked old. I got out of the car, this place was literally in the middle of nowhere. A large open field behind, to the side, and in front of this house. I looked over at my grandpa, who put his hand on my shoulder and smiled, "This is our new home, Cashmere." . . . Read More!
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