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Final Strand: Chapter One

  HAZEL Chapter One: The Letter Maine March 21st, 1979 The knock was not loud or sharp, but it caught my attention. I pushed back my chair and walked across my dorm room and pulled open over to the heavy wooden door.  Standing on my threshold was the middle aged headmaster.   “I’m very sorry, Miss Lewis,” he said in a brisk voice, looking down at the envelope he held in his hands. “I come bearing sad news. Your grandfather—” He looked up then, into my face and paused mid-sentence. “Oh, I have heard of you,” he said, his voice going soft and slowing down, “but they didn’t . . . You aren’t . . .” He cleared his throat and shook his head, blinking his eyes behind his thick glasses. “My grandfather?” I prompted. “I don’t know what’s come over me.  Let me think . . .oh, yes,” he took a deep breath and said slowly, “I’m so sorry, my dear.  Your grandfather passed away two nights ago. Your mother was, as I’m sure you know, traveling.  And . . .your eyes . . . they a

My Mountain: Beginning the Writing Journey

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  When I was young, I had asthma.   Really bad asthma.   Like couldn't breath and had to lay on the couch for days gasping for breath.  My parents were going through a holistic stage and didn't believe in medicine.  So I drank tinctures (still can't stand the smell of wet sage) and herbal mixtures and cayenne pepper and fresh squeeze grape juice in hopes I'd breath better. I didn't work.  Bless their hearts. So for the days I was in the midst of an asthma episode, I'd lie on the couch and dream of the days when I would be strong enough to stand and walk around again.  I was scared of running because it triggered my asthma.  I'd lie there as my siblings ran off to play or hike or run.  I lay there as they laughed and talked around me.  Of my eight siblings, I was the only one who had these episodes. They tried to be nice, but I heard them, especially my sister Jayne, talking about how I was so sickly I would surely die young (ah, the things siblings say--I ha