The Singing Trees

by Boo Walker

It was so easy to have dreams, but to actually make them happen wasn’t always possible.

One of the many lessons that Walt had taught Annalisa about time was that not all seconds were equal. Some lasted longer than others.

She also knew that not only could love and art coexist, but that art—at least her art—required love just as pasta required a sauce

Love wasn’t a potion you drank to distract yourself from reality. Love was the key to living a life that mattered.

The creamy sand was a stick of butter melting into the water, and she couldn’t imagine that all those shades of blue even existed. For a Mainer who’d barely crossed borders, this was proof enough that God had His hands all over the world, mixing in colors even the great masters could never emulate.

It was the kind of day that begged for you to be outside and get out into it.

She might not believe or have any interest in romantic love, but familial love was a certainty.

a woman doesn’t have to give up and die just because she dared to love.