. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Monday, 26 January 2009


I smiled. The cozy warmth of his words returned to me and I was filled with exhilaration. A sigh, a click of my heels en terra firma , and I turned in the direction of my departure.

Filled with sudden courage I didn’t know I possessed, I found myself on his front stoop, my clenched hand ready to rap yet again.

The scent of lilacs pervaded through the gated garden and strangely enough, finding myself newly hopeful, this time I took notice of the sounds of new life about me: a group of young swallows nested in the oak tree on the east side of the yard chirping for their mother’s attention; a squirrel scampered up a second tree while another foraged from up above.

The door opened suddenly. There he stood, silent and grave looking.

“Can I come in?” I dared.


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