Joanna Anderson Campbell lived the perfect life … loving daughter and sister, loyal friend, faithful wife, and devoted mother. She was happy and content. What more could she have asked for? Life could not have been better. At least … that’s what she believed. Until she died. Can death teach the most valuable lessons about life? Jo Campbell is about to find out.
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About the author:
Kathi Haacke Morehead makes her fiction debut with WHITE NIGHT. She is the author of HEART BLEED: Letting go and stanching the flow, and THE BEST FROM THE CHEAP SEATS. She has also written numerous articles for Mind Body Green, and Boomeon. She also blogs daily at A View From the Cheap Seats Today. Kathi lives in Brunswick with her husband Dave and their four finicky felines. Her motto is “love and laugh!”
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Excerpt Chapter 8
I run up our sidewalk and around to the back of the house. I run up the steps, knocking the snow off of my boots as best I can. I recognize, even then, what a futile endeavor this really is. I know that when I get on the porch I will have to take my boots off and when I do, the snow will melt quickly, and I will be unable to get one foot out my boot fast enough to avoid soaking the melted snow into my other sock. Not to be disappointed, both feet are soaked as I run through the back door.
As I start the chilly process of stripping off my socks and jacket, Mother immediately asks where my cap is, and I tell her I gave it to someone who needed it more than I did. It’s the Christian thing, I say. I know that I haven’t fooled her, and that I will likely be scolded.
Instead, she laughs and scoops me up in her arms, wet jacket and all, and tells me how much she loves me. These are the moments I live for. And I would be remiss if I made it sound as though they were infrequent; they were not. And that is what makes my young life perfect in so many ways. The unconditional love I receive from my parents, and usually my sister, is unshakeable and immutable. It is the foundation upon which I built my life.
This belief plants and nurtures the seed that love conquers all – that love is the best band aid there is. I will learn that even band aids can be ripped off and wounds can be re-opened, and that sometimes even love is not enough. But for now, in this kitchen, feeling the warmth of my mother’s love even more radiant than the heat from the woodstove, I am happy.
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