A Girl Called Trinity
By Kate Everson
Copyright 2012 Kate Everson
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She was born on the fifth of May when the apple blossoms were filling the landscape with fragrance. She was delicate as a flower, white as snow, yet she had a spiritual quality about her, like an angel who had fallen too close to the earth.
“We’ll call her Trinity,” said her mother, holding her close. “She will be spirit in the flesh, and surrounded with holiness all her days.”
And Trinity never cried. She slept soundly even at night, and sometimes when her mother came in to check on her, she found her wide-eyed, staring at the moon. The slivers of moonlight filtered through the lace curtains of her room, illumining the crib where she lay. Her mother would gasp and timidly cover her warmly against the night. But Trinity had a warmth all her own, and her mother knew it even then.
Trinity was a special gift from the heavens, but she grew straight and tall, like any normal girl. Her reddish hair was curly at the ends, and she would often tie it back so she could get about her business of learning all about this strange, new world.