Carrie Ann Schemenauer

Dethroned

On the hilltop grew a marigold. It hadn’t always been there and its existence was quite remarkable. It began with a small, old women named Vira. Her skin was tanned and wrinkled but her eyes twinkled when she talked and she had a lively wit. She could tell you where to shove it and do it with such clever humor that you would feel compelled to thank her.