Moon Over Manifest

Memories were like sunshine. They warmed you up and left a pleasant glow, but you couldn't hold them.

Who would dream that one can love without being crushed under the weight of it?

...the person you encounter is often more than the person you see.

If there is such a thing as a universal--and I wasn't ready to throw all of mine out the window--it's that there is power in a story. And if someone pays you such a kindness as to make up a tale so you'll enjoy a gingersnap, you go along with that story and enjoy every last bite.

Maybe the world wasn’t made of universals that could be summed up in neat little packages. Maybe there were just people. People who were tired and hurt and lonely and kind in their own way and their own time.

When there is suffering, we look for a reason. That reason is easiest found within oneself.

Maybe that was how I found comfort just then, even with him being so far away. By remembering the flavor of his words.

But the woman, the mother, she watches, she waits, she loves. And she bears the weight of that love. She bears the loss of her son to war. She bears the story of Manifest. When everyone else is crushed by it, by the loss, the pain. When no one else can bear to remember. She is the keeper of the story. Until someone who needs to hear it comes along. When it will be time to make it known. To manifest. That's what a diviner does.

You know how men are. When they don't feel good, the world comes to a standstill.

Arthur Devlin, you and my husband may have been in the same grade, but you were never in the same class.

But I wondered. Maybe the world wasn't made of universals that could be summed up in neat little packages. Maybe there were just people. People who were tired and hurt and lonely and kind in there own way and their own time.

For the love of Pete, Lettie, if you don’t sing something a little more cheerful, Abilene and me are going to throw you on a train and not wave goodbye.

And if someone pays you such a kindness as to make up a tale so you'll enjoy a gingersnap, you go along with that story and enjoy every last bite.

Telling a story ain’t hard,” Lettie said. “All you need is a beginning, middle, and end.

You cannot toss the ground aside like an old rag. Then it will not help you later. Use a hoe, there by the shed.

middle. That made me a bit cantankerous, because crazy as she was, I could see the sense in making a neat row of ground piled on each side to keep the moisture from running off. If ever the rain came. But time wore on, and as the dirt mingled

Frog legs, huh? When you were hungry most of the time, you learned to eat what you could get. Still, frog legs sounded a bit exotic even to me.

The ladies of each fraternal order are invited to submit squares for a special victory quilt to be signed by President Woodrow Wilson himself on his tour of the Midwest.