Color of the Flame

Isn’t life strange. Lilith looked back at her house getting smaller in the rear view mirror. It was only five years ago when she and Trey lived in free migrant housing on the blueberry farm. It was plain but warm enough in the Michigan winters. It was a perk as a maid. Yet when Ernie’s wife died, he married her and she moved into the big house. Then Ernie died and the house and farm became hers. She never knew she’d own a fruit farm; the work was hard but rewarding. But bills and taxes can add up quickly. Too quickly for a widow woman.