Driving into town, I realise: at my book
launch I’ll see all these friendly faces! I
say as much to one friend who works in
the pharmacy, as I pick up my meds.
When I walk out, there’s a big white
feather across my path, which wasn’t
there when I went in.
‘Hello, Yasoda,’ I say, picking it up. (She
told us before she passed that this would
be the signal by which we’d know she was
around.) ‘You’d have been there with bells
on, wouldn’t you?’ Then I think – well,
maybe she still will.
the love of friends –
made visible, tangible
by their presence
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