The bright blue of the sky is dotted here and there by the yellows and the reds of the kites. The children, my grandchildren, run round and round the compound chasing the wind. They glow; their joy is infectious. To look at them is to remember when I was young, when I would run, […]
It started with a toothbrush. It’s always the toothbrush that announces the arrival of another. Hers was red, mine was blue. And when back then they stood facing each other in the tiny cylindrical basket, they looked like enemies sizing each other.
There is a tale clawing at my rib cage, tugging on my arteries begging to be heard. Hands cupped into a whistle, ready to sing for supper