April has been beautiful in so many ways. Not many showers here on the gorgeous northeast Florida coast, and the flowers don’t wait until May to appear. The construction is finished along my beachfront, and it is so magnificent to sit and watch God’s majestic handiwork. Easter has come and gone. I’ve passed the third anniversary of my husband’s death. Life goes on, and with it comes both highs and lows. But in this post, I’m sharing a very high high!
It ‘s done! It’s ready! It’s available! It’s out there!
My sixth book is published!
What’s it about? Like my other books, The Letter Box is based on real people and true events. Some events have been fictionalized. Yes, I’m writing about my ancestors again. But this time they are on my mother’s side. This blurb from the back cover gives you a little preview of what to expect.
A daughter uncovers a legacy of abandonment in her maternal ancestors through letters she discovers in an old box. Unknowingly, this has influenced her, for good or bad, throughout her life. Although she has no daughters of her own, she is determined to break the cycle for her granddaughters, encouraging and giving them words of wisdom to live fulfilling lives. Brutally honest, the author lays bare the intricacies of mother- daughter relationships and how they affected the lives of these extraordinary women.
Now you get a head start – I’m going to share with you the introduction page.
Introduction
I am no one’s daughter. At least I haven’t felt like anyone’s daughter for many years. My parents passed decades ago. Technically I suppose I am still their daughter, just not in an alive sense. I wish I had known my mother and the grandmothers who came before her. I mean, really known them, as women. All of them, unlike myself, became mothers to daughters. Adeline, Harriet, Tommie Belle, and finally Mary, who was mother to me. The mother to daughter progression ended there, as I had no daughters.
Who were these women? What were their thoughts, dreams, desires, and burdens? I knew they had lived through wars, pestilence, stillbirths, deaths of children, deaths of husbands, back-breaking farm or factory labor, and poverty, all while enduring the civil and societal restraints levied upon women during each of their lives. Still, I did not truly know them.
Until I found the letter box. A faded floral-print box hidden away in some of my mother’s old belongings. Inside were packets of letters bound in time-paled ribbons. As I began to unfold and read the brittle pages it became clear there was a specific order to these epistles from the past. The first was a letter from my great great grandmother Adeline Park Howell to her daughter, Harriet Howell Smith. The letters in the box would reveal the lives of the women I so longed to know. And, no matter how many years had passed, we were inextricably connected.
Harriet Howell Smith, the child on the right, with her grandparents Hampton Wade and Cynthia Knox Howell.
I hope this introduction intrigues you enough to persuade you to read the book. It is a small book, only 144 pages. It’s a beautiful book, visually. Lavender was my own mother’s favorite color. This little book, packed with mother/daughter sentiments, would make the perfect Mother’s Day gift.
Purchase the book on Amazon at https://tinyurl.com/yk68kzbs
OR ask your local bookseller to order for you:
· ISBN-10: 1953416314
· ISBN-13: 978-1953416315
Coming soon on Kindle too!
Do you have special thoughts you’d like to share about mothers? Maybe you’re a not a daughter, but a son. Mother/son relationships are special too. I should know- I raised three sons and zero daughters. Please share your thoughts in a comment below.
Lovely =—->
Thank you Anne!