Part 2- The Awakening
Ashleigh
It was the fifth morning in a row that I could remember the melodic narration of a woman. An alto with a velvety texture to her words. She used a wide range of emotions in her storytelling, her voice possessing a rich, warm, comforting timbre. I couldn’t comprehend the words of the story she was telling at first. But now I knew it was Anne of Green Gables. In my childhood home, before my dad passed, we had a set of the books. My father read them to me, claiming they were his sister's favorite growing up, I never met his sister. I wonder what happened to her? Hearing this woman now, reading as my father once had, it resonated with me, connected me to him. She made me miss my father.
Ever since I was a little girl, I had dreamt of meeting and having my own G
