Friday, February 27, 2009


We climbed the hill to her house; a small terrace that looked over the island. She opened the door and stood to one side, waving me in. 
"After you," I said, waiting for her to lead the way. I followed her, closing the door behind me. She led me down a narrow hall and into a small bright kitchen, flicking on lights as she went. I stood inside the kitchen door and watched as she filled the jug.
"Would you like tea?" she asked. 
"No, thanks. Just some idea of what's going would be good," I said. I thought of leaving - going on without getting involved. I glanced around her kitchen. It was neat and tidy and gave little away. On the table however was proof that convinced me to stay. Leaning against a vase full of flowers was an envelope. There was no mistaking the writing. It was my mother's hand and the note was addressed to Pa.

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