There is a beautiful slab of marble down the road. It stands alone near the top of a hill. It is a stunning stone is polished so often that it glitters when hit by the smallest sunbeam. The stone enjoys the shade of the willow trees in the summertime and is decorated by an elegant layer of frost in the cold seasons. The path up to the gem is well traveled regardless of the year.
People of the village have said that it was to extravagant of a present for a small child. They were right. Mrs. Rose had to sell the family farm for Little Emily’s gift. Friends and family scolded Mrs. Rose for being so wasteful, especially in a time when money was so scarce. But she had no choice; nothing else was worthy enough for Little Emily.
Mr. Rose had passed away six months earlier so Mrs. Rose did what she could to get by. She did what she could. Mrs. Rose worked long hours as a servant on the nearby plantation. Her wage was poor and she was unaccustomed to her work but she did not mind. She no longer had to make family dinners for three and she was not planning to buy Little Emily any more gifts.
Everyday, without fail, Mrs. Rose walks up the hill to see Emily admiring her present. It is indeed a marvelous stone—bright and glittering with intricate carvings. And, indeed, Little Emily Rose deserved nothing less.


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R.I.P.
EMILY TERESA ROSE

DEC. 19, 1924 – SEPT. 2, 1932
BEAUTIFUL, LOVING DAUGHTER

It was the perfect parting gift.