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Speaking Volumes
To Grandmother's House We Go
To Grandmother's House We Go
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Excerpt
Lydia May Albright, nine years old, sat in the backseat of her parents' late model Ford Thunderbird as the car traveled along a snowy two-lane highway in northern Minnesota, with her father at the wheel and her mother beside him. The little girl was wearing a new red corduroy dress with a white lace collar, white tights and black patent leather shoes. With her long blond hair, bright blue eyes, tiny button nose and pink cherub mouth, she looked like a china doll come to life. Next to her, on the back seat, slept the family cat, Fluffy, a white Persian, curled up on the girl's red woolen coat. For never having made the long car trip before, the feline was doing quite well.
Lydia May Albright, nine years old, sat in the backseat of her parents' late model Ford Thunderbird as the car traveled along a snowy two-lane highway in northern Minnesota, with her father at the wheel and her mother beside him. The little girl was wearing a new red corduroy dress with a white lace collar, white tights and black patent leather shoes. With her long blond hair, bright blue eyes, tiny button nose and pink cherub mouth, she looked like a china doll come to life. Next to her, on the back seat, slept the family cat, Fluffy, a white Persian, curled up on the girl's red woolen coat. For never having made the long car trip before, the feline was doing quite well.
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