Mostly, I remember that Nonna couldn’t speak–Italian or English. Her vocal chords were irreversibly damaged as a young child. Yet the spoken word wasn’t necessary for her to be understood and endeared.
“Walk with me, Stella,” purred the blue cat. “Let me share something with you.” Still grappling with the reality of a world with talking animals and no sun, Stella simply nodded and kept pace with her new azure companion as it shared with her a cautionary tale. Stella listened for hours
Stella had fallen asleep. She was laying on the floor in the moonlight. She didn’t realize it, but she was also curled next to the meteorite that had mysteriously broke through her dining room window earlier in the day. Breathing softly, Stella dreamed of vast flowing landscape. She saw hills
Stella sat enthralled. The flickers from the random ball of fire she found sitting on her dining room floor had finally died out. She thought it might be a good idea to call the fire department or NASA. Yet, Stella simply couldn’t bring herself to move. She sat for hours
What’s my problem? I think too much. I may not know much, but I sure do overthink about what little I do know. So much so that I have developed a compulsive behavior. It’s not smoking, drinking, or drugging. Nor is it bad grammar, yet now that might become a