The
Heirloom "She's my baby daughter. Make sure she gets this when I'm gone." With difficulty, the mother raised her head, a weak smile touched her lips. "I love my children, all of them, but she's my baby." she whispered as her eyes closed for the last time.
The wrapped package almost fell from her trembling hands. The short note had stirred emotions she thought were gone forever. The little piece of lace had always meant so much to her. Threads twisted into lace but winding from childhood to childhood, tying together the past and the future. Her tears flowed freely and her fingers picked at the thread. To her horror, it began to unravel. So fragile were the threads which held it together.
RETURN
TO |
