‘Go pick a flower, please. It will make her happy.’ Keme blinked, confounded by the request. ‘Go on,’ said the man. Waving his hand dismissive...y at Keme. ‘A flower. Preferably something small enough to take inside.’ Then he again focused on Zoa. ‘Where is your bow?’ Zoa clapped the sheath connected to her upper thigh. ‘Oh, I thought that was some sort of sword,’ commented the man. ‘It’s a bow from the far west,’ said Zoa. ‘They’re flat and small. Harder to use, but easier to travel with.’ ‘She. Had been born 112 years ago. I knew that some of my grandchildren must still be alive, and many of my other descendents that had attended my last birthday party would certainly be alive and well. But I also knew that I could never contact them and inform them that I was their great, or great-great grandmother. Can you imagine how ridiculous that would sound? Yet I still ached to be with my family again.Lastly, I read the accounts of my own death. How many people get to read their final. More

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