I found a log by the creek that ran nearby. It's soft gurgling soothed. Eleanor Tuttle lived to the west, farther into the woods. She was a thin, youn... woman with three boys too young to be soldiers and too young to mention here. Her husband was killed near war's end. More devout than I, she never missed a service, and she had farther to walk with three sons of wild temperament. I did not know her well. We spoke rarely. They lived hand to mouth from the woods, with a garden and chickens. I looked at her open blouse, showing her ample cleavage. I thought her breasts were even bigger than I remembered from when I was in my teens coming into my puberty years.I took some nice photos of her and the roadside protest as well.We chatted for a while and she invited me back to her unit which was on a parallel avenue in Miami. We entered and I noticed her apartment was tastefully appointed in such a way it suggested she was reasonably financially comfortable. Grandma had been on her own. More

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