https://padlet.com/uksusanjballard/avpghchwuod2 Story suggested by music en-us 2018-06-09 10:00:13 UTC 2021-11-29 14:35:12 UTC hello@padlet.com uksusanjballard https://padlet.com/uksusanjballard/avpghchwuod2/wish/266401204 The front door is thrown open and a smiling young woman in a short, figure hugging summer dress appears on the terrace at the top of a flight of stone steps. She surveys the garden streched out in front of her. The neatly clipped lawns and box hedges, the stony path leading through a rose arch and the gnarled apple trees whose blossom is just giving way to little nodules, the promise of fruit. She pauses long enough to absorb the birdsong and the intoxicating scent of cut grass and early spring flowers.
Monica, for it is she, flings herself down the stairs, her graceful long fingers just curling around the warm iron balustrade to steady herself at the bottom, noticeably trying to contain such youthful exuberance so that she can proceed in a more dignified manner to the end of the garden, where nailed to a fence post is a shiny black mailbox. In an inkling the lid is raised and her hand retrieves the envelope within, which she rips open and reads avidly. Her beautiful face is bursting with happiness and she whirls around, making a series of twirls as she races back to the house, shouting, “mamma, pappa, I passed, I passed”]]> 2018-06-09 10:09:12 UTC https://padlet.com/uksusanjballard/avpghchwuod2/wish/266401204