Storytelling in the fog

How can we keep going when we can't see the words for the clouds?

the '“halfway house” nestled in the fog

Hello lovely

My Grandma was a storyteller through and through. She gathered memories and stories in the same way she collected stones on the beach, stooping every few steps on a walk to uncover a hidden gem. She carried them in her pockets, polished them up, then shared them with us, unknowingly showing us how to be…