Maybe twice a week I’ll post a bit of something from my work while at camp. I’m not one for long entries so the bits I post will be, what I consider, major steps taken. Today I’ll post the short first page of Chapter One of Flirting With The Moon. Thanks for reading…
The Box of Many Pages
The day after I found out I’d inherited Lauradale my husband, TJ, and I went out there. And I mean, literally, out there. Lauradale is an old Creole Cottage on the West Bank of New Orleans. The way, way West Bank. Out of the French Quarter and over the bridge and southeast as the river flows and then and then and then until we were driving south down a shell road that hadn’t been tarred since forever and the dust flew in the car windows and we were both sneezing.
A month later we were still there. We were in the attic cleaning and sorting through torn kites and old maps on a dusty desk. There were stacks of old wax LPs and a cloth covered box of old papers with a note attached: Laura’s Stories.
But that’s not where I wanted to begin. The only resonable place to begin this tale is with Laura’s letters.