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Show deultel p seeks the sea all music to my ears. And I'm thankful thank-ful for the corner of the heart and memory where all of these feelings can be stored till some dark day when I need to enjoy them again. Yes, I love life. Loretta loved it, too. A beautiful ' young wife and mother two small sons and now the birth of that long-awaited baby girl. Her feelings as she pressed that tiny form to her breast and caressed her silken hair. Just the same as yours and mine thankfulness and joy. Then suddenly complica- . tions, and by nightfall Loretta Lor-etta was gone. The door that some of us fear and others face bravely and through which all of us must pass, opened and closed softly behind be-hind her. Doorway to death you say? NO, I say doorway door-way to continuing life. I love life. Loretta loved life and I believe she loves It still. I love life. It is a precious gift. Even those burdened with sorrows, ill health and trials cling to life with tenacity. tena-city. Living brings with it many experiences. Some joyous, some painful, some heartbreaking, heart-breaking, but with time, patience pa-tience and a strong will, even the most trying event can be perhaps not forgotten -but endured, and the small, familiar beauties in life can begin to be noticed and enjoyed en-joyed once more. I love family. Each member mem-ber contributing to the whole and believing that we are forever bound together through thick and thin in life and death. What could be nicer than a fine husband, two stalwart sons and two daughters as opposite as night and day. One made of lace, silken butterfly wings and snowdrops, loving to read, sew, and cradle her doll the other of sturdy homespun cloth, hanging by her heels from a treetop, racing with the wind and mothering every llvlngcrea-ture llvlngcrea-ture she meets. Friends and neighbors with their cheering smiles, appreciative words, comfort and support so freely given, cant be traded for anything else in the world.A precious and most important part of life. I love the fresh mountain air on a crisp fall morning; the flashing, crashing rumble rum-ble of a late summer storm ; raindrops on my face, soft breezes in my hair and wildflowers shyly peeping, bathed In the delicate gold of a spring day "rate near the top of my list. I love the piney scent of a tree at Christmastime; the spicy fragrance that fills the kitchen as we hurry to stock our shelves before winter's icy chill; the earthy odor that permeates the air before be-fore the rain, and the sweet, refreshing scent of a sky washed clean. I love the satiny feel of newborn things, and the raspy wet touch of a calf's tongue. I love the sound of birds cheerily announcing the birth of a new day; the crunch and crackle of crisp Autumn leaves as the wind scratches it's way through bare tree branches; and the heavy stamping of boots on the porch that signals the welcome news, "Hi honey, I'm home." The soft swishing swish-ing of wings as a night-flying bird begins it's evening's pursuits; the silence and awe I feel as I watch a firey sky at sunset; the roar of ocean waves crashing against craggy crag-gy rocks, and the bubbling tinkle of a tiny stream as it |