Just Like Mary
Just like Mary Janet L. Stickney [email protected] The leaves were falling, littering the ground, my efforts to rake them into a pile futile. With the breeze continually spreading the pile around, I finally gave up and went inside. My dad was still working on his painting, the young girl laying on her back, white tights, shoes and dress starting to take shape. Dad made a wonderful living as an architect, but his real passion was painting. There were several of my sister and...