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i spent most mornings in the gardens, planting flowers on the various new mounds of dirt that dotted the landscape. When i was done i would hasten to the gazebo where mother was always waiting for me, her twisted hands gripping the old shovel that she would use to raise herself to greet me. From beneath her veil i would hear her voice cracking, croaking out something inaudible. She could always tell i couldn't hear her and so she would point the shovel at one of the mounds, towards hands trying desperately to claw their way from the earth. It was always then that she would give me those little hard candies. To this day the taste of werthers originals brings me back to those halcyon days of my youth spent on the family estate with mother and our ever changing cast of servants.
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Feb 5, 2016 15:41
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| # ¿ May 17, 2024 16:35 |
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