Sitting comfortably under the courtyard umbrella on a sun drenched day, I reminisce about my life. The Wisteria vines climb high on an arched trellis, full of hanging blossoms. Red geraniums and an assortment of flowering plants crowd the raised flowerbed and occasionally a breeze stirs the chimes--the mystic sound intensifying my mood.
I am eighty years old. I alone am left to tell this story. My parents and my brothers and sisters have all gone before me. In all that I do, my mother's love is with me. From my humble birth in Taos to my sitting here today, I am in awe of my good fortune. The inheritance of a strong, healthy body and my mother's wisdom and humanitarian spirit have provided me the strength needed to cherish every day as I forge ahead.
--My name is Rosabelle