Life Loop
A couple of hours ago we got off the train from London. Gillian holding Emma’s hand the way she used to hold mine when crossing the road; we walked down the old slanted path towards the narrow main street. The light rain marked the mixed mood of the day, sadness with a glimmer of hope for things to come—seeing family. We picked up flowers and I did a spontaneous stop in the Hospice shop. Through the shop’s window, I saw Gillian and Emma standing across the street on the corner waiting for me. I made a quick purchase—a sheer black floral tunic off a display hanger—almost like a tribute, a remembrance as if I’d forget. How could I? “Jen!” Gillian called when I exited the shop. As I turned toward her, she motioned with her hand, they were ready to head over.
