The frosty grass. The frozen leaves on the trees. The sheer silence of the intense cold of December has been overwhelming. It’s 7:15 in the morning. Dad has been generous today to drop me at school. My sister has caught a cold and I don’t feel like going on the school bus alone. It’s early though when I enter the gates. The frosty playground is the first place that captures my attention. The white frost seems like a white silk cloth being laid on a vast area to make it look appealing to walk on.
Starting this story will add it to your library
Love the story? Donate to support the writer
This is a beautiful story. It makes one remember the Rasheeds in their lives. I’m sure we all recognize someone who was not in our family and who didn’t owe us anything but positively influenced our lives. Well written. My hat is off to the writer/author. Great job!!!