Miss Lovely Movie

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Kellye Tunks

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Aug 4, 2024, 8:57:19 PM8/4/24
to onintuhi
Ifyou venture off the main road and drive towards the sea, you will be greeted by inspiring views of cliffs and ocean. There are so many lovely places here on the Beara Peninsula, and because the area is relatively small, you can spend your time enjoying your adventure without a hectic pace.

Hey Mammaw,

I know your in a better place.Now you get to see dad and Wonda.Tell dad that I love him and I miss him.I know your

not suffering anymore.I know your happy now because you get to see the Lord.I will see you again when i get to heaven.Tell pappaw,dad,and wonda i said I LOVE THEM.

You are loved and going to be missed alot.I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND ALWAYS


I LOVE YOU MAMMAW AND I WILL MISS YOU SOO MUCH.EVERYBODY WILL MISS YOU SOO MUCH. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE SOMEWHERE IN MY HEART AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU AND REMEMBER YOU. YOU ARE A GREATEST MAMMAW IN THE WORLD. THERE IS NO ONE IN THE WORLD WHO COULD REPLACE YOU NO MATTER WHAT. WE WILL BE TOGETHER AGAIN AND WE WILL ALL GET TO SEE YOU AGAIN. I LOVE YOU MAMMAW AND I WILL MISS YOU


We packed our gear in the usual manner and struck out down the trail. That is, I had my ``Kennebecker,'' which is a woodsman's pack basket for the trail. Goodwife had her L. L. Bean totebag - neither of which will soon be recognized as the travel luggage of decent people trying to make an impression on the congenial managers of a respectable hostelry such as Howard keeps. They are handy and convenient, and from occasion to occasion we seldom unpack them of our essentials. In a real flurry of departure, we can just grab them and run.


We had done just that, and now we descended from our conveyance in Howard's parking lot and approached the front door that leads to the lobby, where folks like us engage in transactions that have made Howard a wealthy man. I was ahead, about to lift my free hand and pull open the door, and Goodwife was two-three steps behind.


The ribbon on her braid was exactly the right color for her slightly reddish-yellow hair. She was, I judged, all of 4 years old, and looked enough like the woman behind her so I picked mother from daughter at once.


It was, instead, a moment of embarrassment for the mother. Had she not just given the proper lecture for this day and age to her pride and joy before stepping out onto the streets of the big city, where all manner of perversions abound, as the newspapers constantly tell us? Don't speak to strangers, and certainly never to strange old men!


Goodwife helped; she said, ``Isn't she the sweetest thing!'' I agreed completely, but wasn't helping the contretemps by dangling my kennebecker to shift my tweed jacket, which was slung over my free arm. The cribbage board, which goes where I go, slid from the basket and bounced across the lobby, and this did the trick and eased the moment.


I thought about how one summer she made salads from garden weeds, and about the day her lamb fell in the lane spring but got out again, and how on egg day she'd come running from the house all shined up like this miss to ride with me to the village.


Monitor journalism changes lives because we open that too-small box that most people think they live in. We believe news can and should expand a sense of identity and possibility beyond narrow conventional expectations.

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