When we moved in to our home over sixteen years ago, a kind elderly lady lived next door. Over the years, our friendship grew. We used to sit on her porch during the summer and I listened to her life stories told in her melodic voice. I enjoyed my time with her. When I was assigned my first AP class, she, a teacher of AP Literature for years, took me to her bookshelf of tried and true literary analysis.
When I pass by her house now, I feel its emptiness. The white baby grand piano sits behind the sheer white lace curtains with a blue scallop valance. The bench is empty, the notes are silent.
When I pass by her house now, I feel its emptiness. The white baby grand piano sits behind the sheer white lace curtains with a blue scallop valance. The bench is empty, the notes are silent.
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