The Only Door That Opened When the Others Closed

“Your mother used to hate the morning glories,” Carol said, her voice quiet and reflective. “She said they were weeds that climbed over everything.”

“They just want to find the light,” Ivy said, dropping three seeds into the trench.

“Yes,” Carol said. “That is what they do.”

Carol smoothed her apron with her dirty fingers, leaving a faint dark smudge continue reading …