The Nanny and The Farmer

Fresh tears began to flow out of Clara's emerald green eyes as she laid the daffodils gently on her family's grave. Her father. Her Mother. Her Sister. Gone far too soon. The three people who she loved and trusted most in the world were taken away from her on a dark, stormy Tuesday night in rural West Virginia.

Her family's home. A tall, well-kept farmhouse with brightly colored flowers and an immaculate lawn, once filled with happy chatter and careless laughter, was now A tall, lonely farmhouse with flowers wilting, just as Clara seemed to be. If her family was still alive on this beautiful day in early June, she thought. Right about now her father would be working in the yard, her mother would be baking a delicious treat in the kitchen while she conversed with one of her friends from the local church. And Clara and her sister, Charlotte, would be sitting on the front porch, swinging, looking onto the open field and talking, dreaming, smiling about what would lie ahead.

Clara quickly said a prayer and with much emotion, managed to say goodbye to her dearest family. She turned and walked out of the cemetery gate then, not looking back. She knew if she looked back, she would break. She would not be able to move on.

Clara picked up her long, floral skirt, careful to keep it out of the mud. She hopped into her father's old grey Buick and turned the key. The backseat held two cardboard boxes. One was filled with clothes, some belonged to her, some belonged to Charlotte and some to her mother, Therese. The second box held prized photo albums, mementos of her earlier days and the family's good times together. Two boxes held her entire life.

She slowly drove away, mentally trying to separate herself from what she was now leaving behind. And so she began the long trek from rural West Virginia to rural Wyoming. A new life was soon to begin.