Friday, April 27th
THE sweet sounds of the Irish tune, Danny Boy, flowed through the spring night. Carol inhaled the scent of her tree’s cherry blossoms while she sat in a chair on her front porch and mindlessly played her violin, watching Lisa ride her bicycle up and down the driveway. The instrument had always been a way for her to wind down and relax and, while she knew she’d never have been good enough to take it anywhere professionally, she played well. Lately, Lisa would ask her to play if it had been a few weeks since she pulled it out at home instead of just at church. Carol was happy that she’d been able to give her daughter a memory she would always carry with her from childhood: a memory of her mother sitting on the front porch playing her violin in the springtime evening.
She
