*Sprite @ Sprite Writes
*Nicole @ Ramblings of a Writer
*Grace Elliot @ Grace Elliot - Gripping Historical Romance
*Benji @ The Non Reluctant Reader
Today's quote come from page 204 of You are my Only by Beth Kephart. By way of explanation, this character is in a mental institution when this scene takes place.
"The barn was very large," I read, from the Charlotte's Web book. "It was very old. It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure. It smelled of the persperation of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows. It often had a sort of peaceful smell - as if nothing bad could ever happen again in the world."
Past the rectangle of the window, snow fall, fat and wet and white. All morning, all afternoon, it has laid its whiteness down, and beyond the window, in the courtyard, the bare trees wear the red bulbs of Christmas. The sound of the weather has worked its way inside - the hush-pause and the down tick, the ache in the clock on the walls.
"Autumn." I stop. "Sweetheart, look."
But she has closed her eyes and she won't look up. "Keep reading," she says with a sigh.
I smell Christmas Eve on Autumn's breath, the chicken pot pie that we ate with a slender wedge of cheese and a little puddle each of cranberry juice poured out in Dixie cups. Someone had bought in an old stereo and plugged it in with old-fashioned Christmas blues and we sat there, together, while Jimmy Butler sang "Trim Your Tree", and Felix Gross sang "Love for Christmas," and when Sugar Chile Robinson sang "Christmas Boogie," Wolfie took up Virgin Mary's hand in hers and a space was cleared on the tabletop and the two of them danced, Virgin Mary's eyes a million miles away, but something close and near on her lips, something like a blessing.