Grace in Return
Once upon a time there was a bitter old woman who lived alone in a house in the deep, dark woods.
When she was young, her heart had been healthy and whole, pumping goodness into the world and accepting gratitude and grace in return.
But then life came along and upset the balance. Hardship came knocking, losses occurred and bitterness settled into her bones. The longer she lived alone and brooded on the past, the smaller her heart became.
It just so happened that the old woman’s house was right in between two small villages. The most direct route to Fairhaven from Bountiful was a path through the woods passing right in front of her doorstep. The path was rarely taken because travelers worried about wild animals, insects, snakes and darkness, but truth be told, they mostly worried about the old woman.
There were rumors of lost children, lost pets and people losing their minds.
Daisy Dunworth didn’t worry about such things; in fact, she didn’t worry about much of anything. She wandered about with a smile on her face, staring up at the clouds or down at the tiniest of ants. She was equally fascinated with both.
Daisy’s dear Aunt Bessie lived in Fairhaven and was recovering from pneumonia. Daisy decided to visit her each day to cheer her up during her recovery. Every morning she packed her bag with a picnic lunch and a book to read to her aunt. As she traveled through the woods she often stopped to gather some wild flowers to put in a vase at her aunt’s bedside. As Daisy passed the old woman’s house she sometimes dropped a flower on the porch and occasionally, as days turned to weeks, she dropped a small package of cookies or a slice of apple pie.
As soon as the young woman was out of sight, the old woman opened her door to see what gift had been shared. Her eyes darted left and right as she grabbed the treat and once again receded into the darkness.
One day, Daisy stopped at the old woman’s door to leave a treat and saw a small package wrapped in brown paper. There was a note printed on top. It simply said: Thank You. Daisy knew the gift was for her, so she knelt to pick it up then sat down on the stoop to open it.
She discovered a photo in a delicate frame. It was a young woman dressed in a satin gown standing next to a handsome gentleman. The joy on their faces made Daisy’s heart smile. She knew the gift was priceless and also knew it was not hers to keep. She timidly knocked on the door.
The old woman opened the door a crack and beheld the lovely smile of Daisy. As light filtered in, the door swung wider and Daisy opened her arms to embrace the lonely woman who had, seemingly, not forgotten the meaning of love.
May your heart be light, your worries take flight
and the gift of pure love be with you tonight.
Photo: worldofstock.com
Photo: worldofstock.com
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
designanator
sarah brennan
nilesite
Rolling
Brianna Popsickle
John A Bayerl
Salon.com
Comments
and the gift of pure love be with you tonight.
Needed this tonight...thank you for a wonderful story...xoxo
HUGGGGGG
Thank you, MichelleD. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
Daisy is the epitome of love. I think getting a hug from her would be the very best. Thank you, Linda.
rated with love
┏━━╮┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈▶♥
┃┏╮┣━━┳━━┳━━┳━━╮
┃┗╯┃╭╮┣━╮┃╭━┫╭╮┃
┃┏━┫┏━╋━┛┃┃╱┃┏━┛
┃┃╱┃╰━┫╭╮┃╰━┫╰━┓
┗┛╱╰━━┻━━┻━━┻━━┛
♥☆░☆░☆░☆♥☆░☆░☆░☆░☆♥
Better than a thousand hollow words,
is one word that brings peace.
RomanticPoetess, I am in complete agreement. I sincere smile is truly a opening to the soul.
Thanks so much, Algis. Peace to you.
Dr. Spudman, I'm so glad you enjoyed my Once Upon a Time story.
Light shines too . . .
I read with Respect.
I'll share with Family.
`
A few days ago we had a conversation about Life, and how quickly age/Change alters Views.
Life\Love and Labor Lost.
The topic was Strife. Sigh.
Strife wasn't ref: Michael.
`
Michael is a great farmer.
My son tends the land well.
The Strife was ref: Sluggards.
I haven't ever used `Sluggard.
I've read of the word`Sluggard.
My concern was Good`Livelihood.
I know and witness abandoned Places.
Often the offspring haven't good Character.
We spoke about personal real life Testimony.
My great daughter-in-law is West Virginian.
`
Oral history retells about a lost Family Farm.
It's sad/personal ref: many Real Life Stories.
Character/Backbone: it's essential cultivation.
Sad to say\some (not all) offspring go astray.
A farm in West Virginia was sold for suburbia.
Fence rows get chopped. Trees sound sad too.
When trees are cut . . . :THUD: Timber! ay, $.
Maybe a 'crack-thud' is like a tree femur bone?
I've been hearing enormous trees being sawed.
It's very rural here. Some 'outsiders' move in.
I'm not insisting every human 'ought' to farm.
But,
a expensive, and gaudy looking shacks get built.
One house nearby looks like a rural whore hut.
I am not bad-mouthing. It's just so impractical.
shush . . .
No honest person can afford a hill residence?
The roadway is one-half mile uphill. UPHILL!
Owner purchased hundreds of mountain acres.
`
`
I was just gonna mention William Wordsworth.
In Canada I read: MICHAEL. It's my son's name.
Pre-gadgets in lie of TV, ipod, twits, etc. Read . . .
It's busy here. I came back to unplug my gizmo.
Thank you . . .
I believe You will love the poem. It mention Love.
The woman is loved. Michael is loved. But, so sad.
I'm not aiming to 'cultivate' sad. It's worth the time.
R♥