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Roses For Savanna

When we came home after the birth of our granddaughter, I found a tattered copy of Roses For Savanna, and other bedtime stories on my kitchen counter, along with a rosebush in a glass jug, cookies, and a card—gifts from my neighbors. I was puzzled until my wife read the note: “Thought you might want this back.” Daleen had given them the book years ago when their kids were young. The inside cover had my daughter’s name written in her fourth-grade cursive. My granddaughter’s name is Savanna. Today, Savanna is 5 and loves to hear the stories, in the old book, told over and over again.

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