we_tell_stories

When the old woman died the girl felt adrift, there were so many things she never asked, were so many people her grandmother had been that she would never now know about, so many stories she’d never hear, things she’d never learn

But she was left with those memories, sweet home grown tomatoes, watching the sunset across the mountains. She was left with the ethic that if something needed doing you did it, if a dog needed walking you walked it even if you hated dogs. If your son married a woman who you hated you loved their children regardless.

This is the first drabble I've ever written. I just thought it would be good for exercising those formal poetry muscles