The Authentic Eclectic

All The Lasts

Oh, How I Would Like To Believe

a bridge leading to a mystical world, a man walking into light white surrounded by blue, misty trees to either side, all the lasts alison tennent
Depositphotos with permission standard license

Sometimes I think about all the lasts. The last time a good lady laid the breakfast table and made her family a meal, and how they managed without her, her reflection in their mind’s eye growing dimmer as the months passed, her voice lost to memories, the house growing colder.



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The Celtic Chameleon

The Celtic Chameleon

I am my mother’s savage daughter. Editor, writer, freelancer. Alison Tennent — lost and found in three continents.