“
Now reading
Bereave
see rob, para 3. It happened before. This time we found the door ajar, window open, a ghost of curtains blowing in and air still moving as if someone had gone from the room. We felt a new absence, noticed a blank where the bronze whippet stood, silver candlesticks not there and in the bedroom, open drawers flowering with silk scarfs, the velvet box missing -rings, brooch, the string of pearls you gave me after her birth. We look at each other and say nothing. We would have passed them on and much else. What might have been is taken away and we are left knowing absence will travel with us- gaps, small hollows, a hand held out, no one to take it- and like risen bread, empty places become texture and grain for all that follows.