14. Her name was Margaret
xxxI sat with a dying woman in the hospice, and her name was Margaret. She taught me how to use a fork and knife at a hotel buffet. She encouraged my writing by buying books for me. She brought me to Christ. Her name could have been Mother.
xxxNow she was asking me to promise her something. What was it? What was it? I didn’t want to promise it. In a voice frail and fretful, she asked me again and again to promise her. I’m dying and you won’t do this?
xxxA tree shot up from the broken ground. It raised a crown of whispering leaves. It rode as rigid as a scepter. Its name was Good and Evil. Its name was I Am Alive. Its name was Flame of the Forest.