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Courtesy of the National Fish and Wildlife Service photo archive
Grace; by Eileen Fahey

I heard the mourning doves and sensed the mid-summer warmth as I lie beneath the cool cotton sheets. It was one of those days when I believed that my ten-year-old life was perfect. It was also Saturday, and the neutral sounds of morning peace and quiet meant that the rest of the family might sleep a little longer, so I waited, daydreaming about everything and nothing. The cooing of the doves almost lulled me back to sleep until I remembered that the day held some real excitement potential.
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Even an 'X' Would Do; by Lois J. Hobart
Yet another day of 160 round-trip miles from the city to my parents' home. And with much unfinished business—financial, administrative, and emotional—these trips were becoming more frequent. I, eldest child, am the one assigned to complete the paperwork, execute the choices, communicate all necessary information to doctors and hospice workers, family and pastor, and, overall, see that 'things are handled.' And, all things considered, I know my efforts are stellar. They have to be; I only get one shot at this.
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