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  1. Hari OM
    There it was, tucked in behind the dried clovers and the lace trim. She’d forgotten she had this scrapbook, never mind that letter. From dad. The father trying to explain his leaving. She’d read it that once, but did not recall having kept it. She thought she had chucked it. Was sure she had.

    Mother. The image of mother clearing the waste bin and placing the letter in the scrapbook. Tucked for safety and later discovery. Real – or did she just make that up? No matter. The letter was there in front of her again. It was inevitable that she would read it. Again.

    The words were the same. The pain was the same – yet different. Now it was coloured by the memory of mother never once saying anything against him. Now she had an adult’s eyes and a heart’s worth of experience. The reasoning he gave made sense. More than if he’d stayed. Now she cried again for the girl who hadn’t understood and who had spent her life till now in hatred an distrust. Now she cried… and the darkness pulled back like a curtain from her mind.

    Tucking the letter back behind the clovers and the lace, she added a note of her own.

    Forget that moment. Never forget this moment. Move on.

    YAM xx

  2. These are wonderful prompts! Enjoyed reading the writing that Yamini wrote as well. So happy I came by tonight your post and the story.

    Ann

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