As she told her story, he was captured. Fully immersed in her descriptions and reminiscences. The porch she described, he could hear the creaking as people moved around it. The laughter and gentle breeze that moved across the gathering. The snapping of pole beans readied for canning. The fresh baked goodness of pie floating on the air. He took a sip of coffee, and she continued filling his mind with pleasant scenes from her time, down in the holler. He could almost taste the sweet iced tea her mother in law was famous for. Her recollection of simpler days, if impossible and romanticized, were in stark contrast to the harsher reality facing them in the here and now.
Ron Lanham Writing 