She had never considered, while enjoying the bounty of flowers and fruit which followed her into the world, that when she looked at all those

I don’t want your kindness. I don’t need your patience. I’m not looking for a role model. Don’t give me a speech.

I’m standing in the middle of my garden,  small and special, like an ancient idol, hidden for centuries  by the luxuriant vegetation  which grew

I could have died a thousand ways or not have lived at all. I could have sold my happiness for envy, rage, and gall. I could have drowned in grief and tears, and given up my soul. I could have followed on my fears to falter, fail and fall.

She kept the candle lit, like grandma taught her.