Rebecca Wenteworth: Do your thing, Simon! Show 'em how it's done!.Joe Wenteworth: Jesus, Simon, you look like shit.Joe Wenteworth: Okay, you grabbed her boobs, and you pulled her into the manger.With Simon's help, I had finally found my real father. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for bringing him into my life. Ben Goodrich legally adopted me just two days before my thirteenth birthday. And because Hilde was always so content to just follow her lead.she had a stroke of her own and died in July. Grandmother passed away that June following a stroke. Winter left its icy chill behind and soon it was spring, then summer again.It responds like a snail to our impatience.then it races like a gazelle when you can't catch your breath. Time is a monster that cannot be reasoned with.First from her closets and drawers, then from her dresses that she had sewed herself and finally, from her bedsheets and pillowcases. What I remember most to this day was my mother's scent and how I hated it when it began to disappear. You lose them in pieces over time, like how the mail stops coming. When someone you love dies, you don't lose them all at once.Birch was a big believer in the rock and just about everything in their house was made from granite, including Mr. Simon's father owned the Birch Granite Company.Simon Birch was the smallest delivery ever recorded in the history of Gravestown Memorial Hospital.Her name suited her perfectly as she was always leaving class. Our Sunday school teacher was an unhappy woman by the name of Miss Leavey.What faith I have, I owe it to Simon Birch, a boy I grew up with in Gravestown, Maine. I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice, not because of his voice or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death but because he is the reason I believe in God.Stop it! I'm not going to let anything happen to any of you, understand?".Into paradise.may the angels.lead you.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |