Althea Branton

Burning Like Fire

Ever since I found Lettie’s black book, nothing’s ever been the same. Time stopped as I gingerly turned each yellowing page; admiring her flawless cursive penmanship. For a few brief moments I got to experience Lettie’s gift. I know she meant for me to have this book - she left it in a box of knickknacks with my name on it. Even though I had no use for those things, I still kept a few to remember her by. They’re safe on my kitchen windowsill where over time, the sunlight will help keep her memory alive.