Chapter 1

Wings.

The sky was sunny and there were dandelions on the ground. I remember thinking at the young age of 6 years old, that the grass was extra green that day. I had been asked to check the mail, which was found in the mailbox at the road’s edge in front of our rural home. I liked doing this job. I always felt a sense of satisfaction when I brought the “wares” back inside. It was also quiet, and I was lost in my own world just doing what little girls do. I hummed to myself as I turned my back to the road to open the mailbox. I was quite short for my age, so seeing the back of the mailbox was challenging for me and made more difficult by the position of the sun at my back. I took out the mail nearest the door and then stood on my tiptoes peering harder into the mailbox. Balancing carefully, I reached one arm as deep as I could to feel for any other pieces I may have missed. As I did so, a pick-up truck pulled up behind me and a man’s arm-red and black checkered hunting fabric-reached out.

For me.