To chase the sunset, by Florence Williams
Meditative Story
00:00
A Raft, No Anchor, Just Floating
With her own mother gone, it's penny who arrives at our house when i'm giving birth to each of my children. Penny swoops in for those early weeks with hand crocheted baby blankets and miraculously soft birp cloths an pretty pastel colors. She sets up shop in my kitchen where she cooks roasts and soups. Celery is everywhere on the counter tops. She tends the plants in the garden. Somehow even gentles the cat. We grow comfortable with each other's habits and moods. I tolerate the expired food she leaves in my fridge. Breast feeding is hard for me, but i'm determined. In those early days, i can't even wear
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