![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cathschaffstumpCupped in my hands are three things: my grandmother’s soul, my family’s cats cradle, and my memories.
When I open my hands, the cats cradle falls to the ground in a tangle. The memories jewel and streak my cheeks. And grandmother’s soul flies away on the December wind, indistinguishable from the dust of a county road.
Blessings to all of you in the New Year.
Catherine
Originally published at Writer Tamago. You can comment here or there.