There Bettylin and I stood in flip-flops and faded denim shorts ‘neath the old apple tree. Paying our last respects.
We were grieving for a turtle named Seymour. He had served us well. He had been our friend. Our slow but sure nature study. Our link to the watery world.
We loved Seymour. But one day... Life comes to an end, and suddenly people remember us fondly. (It’s a shame to have to die in orde…
