All I want for Christmas is to be gluten tolerant. Santa, can you hear me? I dream of nothing more. Do you have that inside your bag of goodies you haul in your sleigh? You gobble up every every bite of cookies we leave out for you on Christmas Eve after you've shimmied your way down our chimney, so I know you understand the frustration of this predicament I'm in. Imagine biting into cardboard after a long night of work. That's me when I have to partake in gluten-free cookies off the shelf at the grocery store. It doesn't matter the ingredients, the labor put into baking them with care, the blood, sweat and tears it takes to get the consistency up to par. It never comes close and always falls short. So, here I am on Christmas, not wishing for toys, for money, for clothes, for cars, for love, for peace, for much of anything, really. Santa, all I want for Christmas is gluten, but gluten doesn't care. I hope that you do. Yours Truly, Jillian.

Greenery and trees play a very important role in our lives. Forest or tree cover is said to be life-altering for us all. Greenery or trees are said to contribute to reducing the amount of pollution faced by the people. Greenery in a person's life has many environmental benefits. It has benefits that improve health and well-being but are not limited to only that. It can also make water management better and help in the conversation of groundwater. It also helps in promoting biodiversity as well. In residential areas, it can help in the reduction of the effects of noise and other types of pollution as well.

Trees are said to be important to one's environment and people's well-being. They provide us with clean water to drink. They also give us the air that we breathe. Pollution in the air gives us serious health complications. Trees can purify and air and make life better and easy for us. They also give us shade and food. All humans and animals are benefitted from trees. They play an important role in our development.

Trees are important as they also provide us with habitats or places to live. They provide us with an environment where we can grow numerous plants and feed multiple animals. They also give us the fire for cooking and heating. These days, however, authorities try to use nonharmful sources of heat. Trees, therefore, are protected materials and not burnt for food or fuel. Trees act as a place where one can connect for spiritual and cultural purposes as well. Trees are extremely needed for the global world. The health of all the individuals that live on the planet earth depends on the health of trees. Wherever we live and trees provide us with unlimited care and protection.

Here are some of the ways awareness can be spread about the role of trees.

Spreading Education Online

There has been great awareness about greenery and trees and how one should conserve them. The online teaching apps help in spreading awareness about trees and forest cover. They teach environmental science by giving practical examples. Live classes help in the promotion of awareness about sensitive topics such as climate change and the preservation of nature.

One must use online resources or digital notes so that the demand for paper is less. Digital books or online notes are said to be better and convenient as they have an unlimited supply of books online. One can also read from a digital device from anywhere and anytime.

Saving Paper

One must try to reduce the amount of paper they use. One must make sure they have always proofread the work before they printed it. If they are planning on printing a large document they must try to avoid it. It can cause certain problems later if the work has problems. If a person realizes that there are spelling mistakes in the document, they will need to print it again. This would then lead to a lot of wastage of paper. One should also always preview their work to make sure it looks similar to how they want it. Printing document twice a day because of a problem is a waste of paper. It is going to affect the environment in the wrong way as well.

Another way to save paper is to use emails. One must communicate with people via email. One must not send letters to people or minutes of a meeting. Sending emails to save a lot of paper. One must also save their company a lot of money as well. They will not waste their money on buying paper and stamps. These items are not needed in the email to send the letters. One can also save paper by sending documents to their clients and colleagues with the use of email. Instead of printing the message out and handing it to someone else, they must use digital messaging. When a client or the person will read the paper, it will save a lot of paper for their business or company.

Conclusion

Trees and greenery are an absolute must for the health of people. One must therefore plant trees for a better life.

I wondered around the University of Washington in hopes to catch a glimpse of the infamous killer as he stalked out his prey. I just hope he spots me before his first victim. If not, then the mission will be over and so will my career. Who would want to hire a woman who can't be presentable enough for the male gaze?

It wasn't surprising when they selected me for the job. I mean they probably didn't even look at my application, just my head shot. I was right in Bundy's alley. I was skinny and white, but the selling factor was the middle part perfectly placed through my hair. I don't think I have ever had so many men stare at me, but I only want the attention of one pair of eyes, and I have yet to find them.

As I round the corner, back to where I first began to walk, I spotted a new figure sat at a far picnic bench. He had curly brown hair, but his face was hidden away from the world in a book. Someone accidently kicked a trashcan causing the man to come back to reality. His brown eyes instantly found me in the small crowd of students and his mouth fell open slightly. I looked back and smiled warmly.

"Gotcha Ted."

--

As soon as he spotted me, I had to wait for an opportunity so he could grab me. I walked down to a local café and grabbed a coffee. The price difference from the 1970 and 2087 was crazy. I sat down by a window so I could look out at the street. I watched as happy teenagers walk around without the influence of social media to limit them expressing their true selves. I picked up the paper cup, brought it to my lips, and sipped the bitter liquid. My nose turned up in disgust. Damnit, I forgot the sugar. I stood up placing my backpack in the chair, so no one took it, and trudged back to the counter.

As I grabbed some sugar packets from the jar, a ring from the shop's bell made my ears perk up. I glanced in that direction only to find Ted Bundy had one hand on the door, book in the other. He gave me a smile, creep. I returned it, being nice for the sake of the mission, and walk back to my table. He bought a coffee and walked to a table in the corner. Smart man, sit with your back to the corner of the room so you can see the whole room and the door. I looked back out the window as the nerves began to set it. This is really happening.

I got lost in my thoughts as time slipped away from me, before I know it the sun had gone down, and the shop owner was sweeping the now empty store. Quickly, I gathered the few belongings I had brought with me and scurried out the door into the chilled Seattle air. As I made my way back to the campus, in hopes that Bundy would be waiting for me, I repeated the instructions over and over in my head. Find Ted, get him alone, and kill him. We only need the head. I finally reached campus. We only need the head. I could hear the traffic from the highway four blocks away. We only need the head. My hand reached out to open the door to the dorms. We only need the, the repeated phrase was interrupted by a cold hand on my upper arm. When I glanced up to the source, my eyes were meet with brown ones and a crooked smile. Before I could react, everything went black. SHIT.

--

When I woke back up, I was in the back seat of a car. It smelled of cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Ted was in the front seat, but we weren't going anywhere. Instead, he was turned around flashing me that smile I had seen in his file during my weeks of training. The smile I had studied. "You are perfect," he spoke out sweetly as if his intentions weren't to murder me. I stayed quiet not giving him the satisfaction he wanted. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" He was getting angry. His face altered from the smiling one into one of pure anger. He flew out of the car at my silence and swung open the back door to climb in the seat with me. He grabbed my legs, pinned them between his thighs, and unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down my legs with my underwear. he grabbed my hands so I couldn't fight back. "YOU BITCH, AREN'T YOU SCARED??"

I looked up at him with the most innocent look I could pull and spoke softly, "Oh Ted, why are you so quick to anger? Is my lack of begging making you mad?" He looked at me with a paled-out expression. His grip loosened on my hands, and in a quick move I punched him square in the face. He fell back and landed on the ground outside of the car. I grabbed the folded knife out of my pocket and plunged it into his leg to ensure that he can't escape. I pulled my pants back up.

"How did you know my name?" He winced in pain as I stabbed the other leg for safe measure. I gave him back the same crazed smile that he had been flashing me all day as I grabbed the keys from his pocket. "Hey, what are you doing??" He looked in my direction as I walked around to his trunk and popped it open.

"Typical. You really didn't want to get caught, huh? You grabbing my bag is a real pussy move. So scared of getting caught so early into your rein? Well, now you won't even get to kill one person." I picked up my bag and opened it to get out the revolver. His eyes were wide as he watched my every move, pain evident on his dirty face. "You had killed so many innocent females, yet your name is the one known by the world. Ted Bundy, the man who killed 30 women before getting caught," His eyes widened at the mention of his full name, but he smirked at the title. "But I'm here to make sure that you never live to have that satisfaction." I pointed the revolver right at his heart, "Best job ever," and with my finale words I pulled the trigger and sent a bullet straight though his chest. I dropped the gun to dig through my belongings for the saw that I needed to remove his head and when I found it, I got to work.

After what felt like an eternity, I was standing with his head in one hand and my homing beacon in the other. I pressed the return button and waited to be teleported back. I stood with all my weight on my left leg, Ted's head leaking blood down my pant leg. I felt a tingling sensation come over me and I blacked for a second to come back to consciousness in the white lab I had once become familiar with. On the other side of the glass wall, I could see my boss starting at me. I raised the detached head and gave the crooked smile that was engraved into mine and everyone began clapping.

"Oh my God, she fucking did it." My Boss whispered with a pleased, yet shocked, look plastered on his face.

Healing looks like being completely content in front of others to the next breath of having a meltdown in your car.

I had that moment tonight. I completely lost it. I broke down and when I say break down...I mean I was literally screaming crying to the point where I pulled over to catch my breath.

It was the first time in a month.. I held it together so well the past month. I actually counted down the days from when I had my last break down... it was one month to be exact. For a moment, I thought I was completely fine. I reached to a point of finding my own path, moving forward with my future and starting a new lifestyle for myself. However, when I broke down, I thought I had completely lost all of that progress and growth. I feel like I got sucked right back to the beginning.

After that meltdown, I called my friend and went straight over to her house and she said something that stuck with me... it is ok to cry about it. It’s ok to break down every now and then. It’s actually healthier to let it all out and go through the motions instead of putting up a shield and acting like it doesn’t get to you. Your body needs some sort of release of all of that pain.

Just because you have a breakdown here and there and think maybe I was suppose to be past this part already, it does not change the fact that you are not growing from it. Struggling does not mean you are failing. Crying does not mean you are not strong.. it is just apart of the process.

I can tell you after that break down, I feel a little bit better. I was holding onto of all of that junk that was weighing me down and one sentence of “Are you ok?”just set it off. I’m sure I will have more of those moments and that is totally ok.

I have a journal that I try to write

every other day if I am feeling down. So one day when I get past my struggles that I am dealing with now... I can look back and see how far I‘ve came and grown. How much I’ve endured and conquered to get to where I am. To be able to write about growth without feeling the feelings that I have now. To actually see myself from a different perspective. Or even see myself a year down the road and think I am a different person. I mean how great would it be to one day say wow, I’m in a much better place now, or even tell myself why did I let THAT get to me so much? I know better than that. I am a better person because of what happened.

It seems like a very small goal at the moment, but right now it feels so big. One breath, one second, one minute and one day at a time, I will get there. The growth will be beautiful because of the messy healing.

"See you, Monday, Ann Marie."

"See ya," 8-year-old Ann Marie replied as she head across the high school football field to take the shortcut home.

As she passed the empty bleachers, she heard, "Hey, pretty, can you give me a hand?" Ann Marie smiled at the high school boy who had called to her. He had a sling on his right arm and his books were scattered at his feet.

"Sure," she said walking towards him.

"So, sorry for the bother."

"It's okay," she said as she knelt to pick up the books.

"What's your name, sweetpea?"

"Ann Marie Burr," she said passing the books to him.

"Headed home?"

"Yes," she said standing up to hand him the last one. "Bye!" she said as she turned to walk away.

"Thanks for the help, sweetpea," he yelled after her. As she skipped away, he muttered, "See you soon."

"I don't think so, Ted," I said from behind him. He whirled around, ready to strike at me - with a now perfectly functional arm.

Ready, but no longer able.

"Hello, Ted," I said, moving into his space. "I've waited a long time for this moment."

"Who are you? Why can't I move?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that because of me, you will no longer have the opportunity to continue down the path you were headed today."

"What are you talking about?"

From under the bleachers, the crow bar he had hidden flew out and rapped him behind the knees, knocking him to the ground.

"What the he**?"

I sat on the bleacher closest to his head.

"You see, Ted," I kicked him in the belly with my steel-toed boot. I allowed pain to flow through him. He screamed, but couldn't move. "Today would have been a turning point for you. You would have graduated from trapping, torturing and killing small animals to kidnapping and killing your first human being. It would have been the first day of your life as a sadistic sociopath."

"That makes no sense. None of this makes sense. I'm fourteen. I didn't do anything! I'm just a kid."

"A kid with a crowbar," I said as I made him smash his face into the ground. "A kid who planned to sneak into the living room window of 8-year old Ann Marie Burr, remove her from her home, bludgeon, rape and dismember her before burying the pieces where none would ever find them -- even decades after her disappearance."

"You can't possibly know what I haven't done yet. It hasn't happened yet!"

"And now it won't. Ever."

I could feel the fear began to overtake the bravado. I could smell it. I knelt on the ground next to him.

"I've studied every aspect, every minute detail of your miserable existence. I've been you in every virtual reality program the Academy offered. I know you better than you know yourself.

"I know every woman you have killed. I even know the men no one considered your prey. And the animals on which you practiced that led you to today."

His eyes were wide and unblinking.

"How could you...no one...I didn't..."

"Where I come from, you are the textbook example of sadistic sociopath. You proclaimed yourself "the most cold-hearted son of a bitch you'll ever meet" and one of your own attorneys said you were "the very definition of heartless evil.'"

"You're crazy," he shouted. I silenced his tongue. He gagged as it swelled in his mouth.

"And you," I whispered, "are dead. But instead of dying in the Florida electric chair at age 42, you will die right here in Tacoma, Washington, age 14, an apparent heart attack victim despite your youth." I paused. "You will be mourned by your mother, perhaps, and then forgotten. And all those who would have suffered at your hand, will live."

His eyes pleaded with me. I released his tongue.

"Please, I don't know what you're talking about, but if nothing happened yet, I can be better. I promise ."

I laughed.

"Not an option, Ted. Teddy. Theodore." I stood up and walked a few paces away. Looking at him I said, "I was quite young when I was chosen for this honor. Because of certain...special abilities I have," I caused him to rise in the air and slam into the bleachers before falling at my feet. "Each training I ever received over the course of my years at the Academy had this moment as its goal."

A small container appeared in my left hand, a scalpel in my right.

"Wha...what is that?" He stuttered, staring at my right hand.

"You, Theodore, have the pleasure of being the first serial killer the Academy will remove from the annals of history. We know a great deal, of course, but when it comes to selective termination, it is imperative to leave no rock unturned."

"Selective termination?"

"It's a complex process. We've already compiled a complete analysis down to the nano-elements of a so-called healthy brain. We've also conducted in-depth examinations of myriad sub-nano threads linked to sociopathic behaviors gleaned from the few current murderers in custody of the Academy.

"Once we have the fullest picture by harvesting, comparing and charting the brains of other well-known serial killers, the first of whom will be you, not only will we be able to determine from birth who should be terminated due to a 99.99% chance of sociopathic tendencies, we will also have eliminated from the collective memory of humanity some of the most evil human beings that ever lived."

I placed the scalpel and box on the floor as I knelt next to Ted. I looked into his eyes. I sent a thought. He looked confused, then horrified then excited. "I did that?"

"Oh, Teddy," I murmured, "that is not even a fraction of what you have done."

"But, how can...how did you...but I haven't done any of that. You know I haven't!"

"I had the pleasure of meeting the you you become and appropriating all your memories before I came back for you."

As he began to accept the reality of my words, I allowed him to feel the fear I could smell. He began to tremble.

"I met him, you, in the antechamber moments before you were fried. You were unrepentant and cocksure. With pleasure, I took your memories and you went to the chair confused and screaming you were innocent. You soiled yourself as they strapped you in."

"Why are you telling me this? You're gonna kill me. Just do it!"

"Now, where's the fun in that?" I picked up the scalpel and inserted it into his ear, activating the suction element as I placed the capture box next to his head.

"This is going to hurt, Teddy."

I silenced his scream but allowed his pain and fear to roll over and through me. Every needle of fright ignited sensations of pure pleasure. I shivered.

I understood him better than anyone ever suspected.

Than anyone will ever know.

When I have provided all the grey matter the Academy desires, I will have fulfilled my task. No one can say I am not a woman of my word.

But it will be too late.

My powers have allowed me to slip out of the time tunnel without leaving even an atom to follow. Very soon, I will have managed to acquire all the darkest memories associated with the men and women whose brains the Academy wishes to study.

And then, with the greatest perpetrators of evil eliminated, I will give new meaning to the phrase, Greatest of All Time.

All I want for Christmas is...well I really don't know. That's a funny thing isn't it, no longer knowing what you want. Having very few dreams or aspirations left. When asked what I want for Christmas I say clothes, but I don't really want clothes I just have nothing else to say. It's not that I already have everything. There is a bunch of stuff I used to want and don't have or stuff I should want, but I just don't desire any of that anymore. Which would be fine if I still had at least one thing that I desired. But right now I just wade through life, feeling pointless and empty and everything seems pointless and empty and why would I want something that is pointless and empty. Anyway that's enough talk for now, merry Christmas I guess.

October 29, 1886 – Across from the Statue of Liberty

The day was near perfect for this time of the year, known by the phrase “Indian Summer.” But it was coming to a close. Temperatures were starting to drop, though the sun still shined brightly.

People flocked closely around where the Lady of Liberty stood and watched as the last marvel of the century was put in place. A plaque was installed that was inscribed with words by Emma Lazarus:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Celebrations were everywhere. President Grover Cleveland officially dedicated the Statue of Liberty. The festivities included a land parade through Manhattan, a naval parade on the Hudson River, and an unveiling ceremony on Bedloe's Island, everyone stood in awe.

But the plaque was a truly crowning moment, that ever-final attachment as a symbol for freedom for all people. And as people shifted here and there, Cora Mae, just like the throng of people, did her best to get the best view possible. In so doing, not watching her step, she tripped over a man’s foot and was ready to plummet to the street.

But the man caught her as she was going down and righted her back to her feet.

“Oh my, thank you, sir. How clumsy of me. I should have watched where I was going.”

“I think everyone here is having too much excitement to notice where they go or what they do, young lady. This is a momentous occasion.”

“That it is.”

It was then that she took stock of the man who had saved her from embarrassment: a tall, strapping man, well taller than most of her family, and dark-brown, unruly hair; but it was his eyes, like a velvet-blue if there be such a color, which held her transfixed far too long.

“Miss, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. I just find you attractive.” Then she clamped her hand over her mouth and blushed a deep scarlet. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that!”

The man laughed, shaking his head, and said, “You would be the first lady ever to tell me that. And I will tell you I find it refreshing that a young woman such as yourself would utter such words in public. I find that courageous. My name is John Anderson Truman. I came all the way from Missouri to see this event. And in doing so, I have met two beautiful ladies. Her,” he said pointing to the Statue of Liberty, “and you.”

Cora Mae blushed even more before introducing herself, telling this man she came all the way from Virginia.

It was then that Oliver, Azalea, and Charles Henry walked over.

“Cora Mae, we thought we lost you in this crowd. You really need to stay closer to us so we don’t lose sight of one another,” said Azalea.

“Oh, Mother, I was fine but—were it not for this gentleman, I may have returned with a bruise I would have deserved having.” Then Cora Mae made the introductions between her family and John Truman.

“Mr. Truman, I…”

“Please, call me John. Most folks back home just use my first name.”

“Good enough for me, John. You can call me Oliver, then. But I would like to invite you to the Stafford Hotel where we are staying and join us for dinner tonight. It’s the least I and Azalea can do for you in saving our daughter from unwanted grief.”

“It would be an honor, and since we happen to be staying at the same hotel, this should work out nicely.”

“Then say seven this evening?”

As they parted in separate ways, while walking, Oliver went into another deep, hard coughing spell. Each one came a little harder, with a little more blood coming as well. He had seen three different doctors. Two back home and one in New York City. The prognosis was the same each time: he had throat cancer that had been gradually spreading into his lungs. He’d been told that surgery wouldn’t correct the problem because of the quickening rate of the spread of cancer. Oliver knew his time was short, just as did Azalea, Cora Mae, and Charles Henry, but it didn’t make the waiting for the day to happen any easier on any of them.

Often Oliver would say to them, “Let us not think about what will happen, but rather think about all we do instead.”

March 18, 1887 – Dublin, Virginia

The winter weather was all but a bitter memory. Fortunately for Oliver and his family, they were safely home from their excursion in New York, for the city itself was inundated by the worst winter storm ever. Over two feet of snowfall and winds created fifty-to sixty-foot snowdrifts; over two hundred people had lost their lives. The New York Times dubbed it “The Great White Hurricane.”

That particular piece of news they’d learned from the letter William received from Randolph. At least he knew his son was well.

The last two letters William had received from his sons were good ones. Randolph now had five students he taught music, and overall, the academy had nineteen students.

According to Randolph, “Father, in the short span of time we have been here, Dr. Damrosch has done exceedingly well in gaining students. Five have already graduated from short courses taken, and with those we have, graduations will be within the year for the majority, and we have a waiting list for another thirty-two to enter the academy. Already Dr. Damrosch is in communication with a bank for a sizeable loan to expand and turn his idea into a musical university—Julliard. And from what I have gathered from him, there are two banks willing to offer up sizeable loans. It will be a dream come true for Frank, I mean Dr. Damrosch. I’m not certain if I said this in my past letter about being fortunate enough to meet another man, but he was an American clergyman and reformer—Henry Ward Beecher died at seventy-three only a few miles outside New York City. I have considered him to be a great man, like you. And before I forget, Father, I will be giving my first public performance at Symphony Hall April fifth and do hope you can attend.”

William always smiled with Randolph’s words for he always knew the right things to say and do, and now he was not only a teacher but a performing artist as well.

When it came to the last letter from Frank, it, too, was uplifting. William knew his own father would be proud of his grandson. Frank had graduated from Naval Academy, with no less than the highest honors.

In his own words, that William had read many times, “I have graduated at the top of my class, Father. Mother would have been proud. In so doing I received the rank of Lieutenant. This is a huge honor. But of course, I haven’t, as of this writing, learned my new set of orders, but I could be second in command aboard any of the small naval ships, including frigates and destroyers, or possibly the senior Division Officer on a larger vessel. According to the rank and file, Lieutenant is the 18th rank in the United States Navy, ranking above Lieutenant Junior Grade and directly below Lieutenant Commander. Far be it for me to say, but I may be on the rise with an incredible organization. I can see why Grandfather loved the Navy so much…”

How William missed both his boys. And in many ways, William missed his bygone youth. He missed far too much. The hole in his heart had never sealed since the day Anna died. Emotionally, his world crumbled.

And William was ever grateful that neither his sons nor any members in the family had called on him as of late. For in his present state, the spirits had become the only thing that took his mind off of the many losses he had seen in his lifetime. Surely, had Oliver been there as he poured another glass of brandy, he would have scolded him until hell melted away.

Late June 1887 – Chalfin Springs, Colorado

Etta had done all she could for James. But it seemed just when she was nearing the end of a hurdle, another would come from nowhere.

James had had a terrible fall with his horse. The horse had spooked when faced with a rattler in the middle of the road as they were returning from town one day, throwing James off and causing him to land hard on his back. The doctors did all they could, but the facts remained fact: James would never walk again or have the use of his left arm.

Now, two months later, James had a severe case of pneumonia he couldn’t seem to shake, and Etta used everything at her disposal to help him fight this battle.

Chadlynn, Sam, and the girls would be arriving by the first part of July for a visit so that Etta and James could see their granddaughters. But Etta still feared James would not last for that brief period of time until they arrived.

July 2nd, 1887

Dearest Oliver and William,

I write you both to tell you James passed away last evening. Our daughter Chadlynn arrived just hours before, and James did get to see his granddaughters before he passed on.

This wasn't the joyous occasion I had hoped for but at least James smiled as he held each child with his good arm and made all the little fussy sounds we do with our babies.

I am deeply sorry to tell you this way, and Oliver, I know that as his brother, this will be a tremendous loss for you and wish I had better news to tell you.

William, I know the loss over Anna has cut you to the core, and that this telling doesn’t make your loss any easier to bear.

The pastor in town will hold services in two days before we bury him on our land. Our land? His land. I cannot accept this to be my land without him. Chadlynn and Sam have offered to let me stay with them in Wyoming and I have accepted.

Once everything here is settled, the land will be put up for sale and I intend to make sure that the money from the sale will go to our granddaughters. They are, in a sense, our legacy, our future. I’m sure James would agree.

I wish I had better news for you both and please convey this to the rest of the family for me.

With Much Love,

Your Sister In Law,

Etta

August 1887 – Outside of Galena, Virginia

John Truman would mark his third visit to Cora Mae. Since that day in New York he felt it deep in his bones that Cora Mae was the woman he wanted as his wife and the mother of his children.

Before, as with the last two visits, he left Peter Rains in charge of his ranch and livestock, which numbered close to eight hundred head of cattle, of which half would be shipped east that fall. The cattle industry paid well, but John was to the point, the money wasn’t enough to fill an empty stomach or for that matter, an empty house. John owned 2,000 acres of prime land and made him the third richest man in Missouri. Rich was a good thing, but it was time to add to that richness. This time he would ask Cora Mae to marry him and get her parents’ blessings.

January 1888 – Galena, Virginia

Charles Henry greeted the postmaster as he was coming up the road with the family’s mail. To save Harold Anderson a trip, Charles took the mail from him.

As he looked through the letterheads, he noticed one he’d been expecting. Not waiting until he got home, he tore open the envelope, read quickly, and gave a shout: “YIPPEE!”

He ran the last two hundred feet and burst through the front door, shouting for his mother and father.

“Slow down boy,” said Oliver. “What’s all the fuss about?”

“This.” Charles thrust out the letter so Oliver and Azalea could read together.

When finished, Oliver said, “I am very, very proud of you, Charles. That’s a pretty good university to be accepted into for law school.”

“It’s been a dream I’ve had for four years, Father. It’s finally come true. And mark my words, one day I will be a judge.”

Azalea smiled. “Son, I think you have to be a lawyer first and work your way to being a judge.”

“Oh, I know, Mother, but I will be a judge one day and maybe, after time, I can be a sitting judge on the Supreme Court, though I know that means a good twenty or thirty years from now…but it’s something I want to work toward.”

“High ambitions, Charles, and I, for one, won’t discourage you, nor will your mother. We both have wanted the very best that life can offer to you and…”

Oliver started coughing again. Longer and harder. Azalea and Charles helped him to his favorite chair and Azalea brought him a glass of water and some pills the doctor gave them to quell the pain.

This time, the pills didn’t work. The pain seized all over Oliver and the blood came in a thick mucus flow.

Azalea screamed.

Charles stood there frozen.

This was not how you should see someone you love die.

Written By: Danceinsilence