Here, in this hide-away, are the missing pieces of several jigsaws.
Letters I’d misplaced, whole bundles of them, and others which have never reached me… all here.
My diaries, the illicit gifts furtively unwrapped and hidden away, cherished photographs of my other life… all here in my daughter’s secret place.
Having sated herself on both the public and private aspects of my life, whilst destroying much of the latter in the process, she’s moving on.
“I have a right to a life of my own,” she says, “I need to be free.”
She was never burdened with a sense of irony.
Here in the UK the hot weather is set to break later tonight with thunderstorms spreading up the country. Love a good thunderstorm. Thanks to Rochelle for finding the time to lead the Friday Fictioneers every week.