Thoughts I've thunk while sippin' at a cup of tea and reading something provoking, often get dropped here for the benefit of humanity and my own hubris.
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The second installment of letters from Gingeroot Birchwood, and her travels around the world. If you are just joining us, you should probably read the first one.
Dear Flora,
Sorry it has been so long since I last wrote, but it took me a while to find a new hat big enough to cover my tall, pointed ears… you know, since I lost my last hat while on top that tower in Paris. I did enjoy the letter you sent me as well as the picture. They were great. Thank you very much.
I have decided to get on a boat and cross the English channel to get to Ireland to see some friends. You wouldn’t believe these friends, though, as they are even shorter than I! They are having a big party this week, and they really know how to have a party.
I was really tired when I got to the boat, but as I was getting on, this lady asked me where my parents were. I may be over 300 years old, but I still have to act like I’m 8. I told her they were already on board. She, of course, asked where, so I picked out a nice looking man and waved to him. He looked a little confused but waved back, and I told the woman, that the man was my father.
She bought it, so now I’m finally in Ireland, and I have to hurry as it is a bit of a walk to where their home is. You see, these “wee folk” (as they are called), live in this hill. So I’ll close now, and I’ll write some more about the big party.
Love, Gingy
© 2005, Howard Abrams • Except where otherwise noted, all original content is licensed under a Creative Commons License (see details).
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