Purple Sage

“Purple sage?”  My cousin stared at me blankly.  “That’s what the note said?  Is it supposed to be some sort of code?” 

“I have no idea,” I said shrugging.  “If it wasn’t some sort of code, what would it mean?” 

Justin and I were pouring over our grandparents’ old books and diaries of their life we had found.  Our Mimi and Poppy had died the year before and our parents were just now getting through the process of finalizing the sale of their house.  We had volunteered to help clean some of the boxes out because we knew it would lead to a few free meals.   

“Why would Poppy leave you a book and talk about purple sage?  Have you checked the inside to see if he has underlined something?  Highlighted something?” 

The two of us made our way through most of the boxes before calling it a day shortly before six o’clock.  Nothing we had found proved to be very significant, but the purple sage comment had been in the back of my mind all day long.  My grandfather hadn’t been a very outgoing man, mainly due to his military service.  He would never talk about what happened to him or what he saw while he was oversea.  I was dying to ask him, but was afraid of what his reaction would be.  When I finally stumbled across more information regarding the mysterious purple sage, I was not prepared for the insight to who my grandfather really was. 


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