Frozen

We woke up to a glittering world under billions of tiny ice crystals. I snapped these impressions from the garden before the sun melted the glitter.

Today 25 years ago, my father died. So I went to his grave to light a candle, and visited my mother. For many years after his death, we would have shared a bottle of bubbles on this date, and talked about my father. But now she hardly remembers him anymore, and for her it has ceased to matter on which day he died.

I will ask P to share that bottle with me, but it’s not the same, as he never knew my father. 25 years ago, P and I lived very different lives in separate countries. It is a long time.