Yaqut
@Yakut1
In the eyes of the Great Mystery we were all souls alike. ATrying to make our souls skinny enough to squeeze into paradise. that's what my mother said. Everything I remember of my mother is like the little pouch of things that a child carries to hold what is precious to her. When such love is touched by Death then something deeper even than Death grows in your heart. My mother fussed over us, myself and my sister. She was interested in how fast we could run, and how high we could jump, and she never tired of telling us how pretty we were. We were just little girls, out there on the plains, under the starlight.
A thousands moons ,Sebastian Barry