Another Spring for Aunt Francis…



“Dedicated to Aunt Francis my Other Mother”


Her knees bend forward away from the

worn out rocker, her legs getting their

bearings while she made a furrowed

brow, looking out the window at the

garden.   “Everything dies”, she said

“Soon the fragrance of spring will be



She narrows her eyes looking into the

hedgerow at the end of her flowerbed

to see if the sparrow hawks have returned,

slowly she turns keeping contact with the

old chair, holding onto its worn arms.  At

one-hundred years old, her soul still feeds

on emotions of the stillness of the sweet-

scented honeysuckle growing around her

weathered front porch.


Holding her breath she falls back into the

chair, it shudders under her weight; she

knows not to take her being able to stand

for granted.  Closing her eyes to rest, bible

in hand, and her thoughts were none other

than she could get up and walk another time,

another spring.  Maybe!





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6 thoughts on “Another Spring for Aunt Francis…

  1. You brought this lovely lady alive! I was reminded of my grandma in her very own special chair and the way her old crooked fingers would grasp onto the arms of it. Do all old ladies have special chairs they are one with, their home within their home, I wonder? Thanks for sharing.


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