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”“Mother,” the child exclaimed. “We don’t use words like that!”Mother and daughter exchanged glances and both smiled.When “mother” smiled I barely suppressed a gasp.She was already one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen and yet her smile transformed her face into an ethereal beauty that was beyond compare.“Mother” finally raised her face and looked at me for the first time.As our eyes met I felt an almost other-world experience.Her eyes were so sky-blue they almost looked like ice crystals, yet seemed to be boring into my soul with a laser-like heat and intensity.Those eyes seemed to be pulling me inexorably forward.Suddenly the cane was no longer just a prop.I honestly felt like the only thing keeping me on my feet was the cane.At first I couldn’t even speak.Then I was the one who was doing the stammering: “I ... I ... I ... look, don’t worry about it. I know you must have been having a difficult time.“Apology accepted and please, don’t worry about it anymore,” I added, very. Then, the time is now. I am jettisoned wordlessly onto the side of the road, facing track leading into the foothills that shelters my community. I begin to walk the pitted trail, eyes searching for a familiar beacon in the darkness. There it is: a soft, orange light spilling from the first cottage nestled in the trees. I approach, beginning to pick out details. The willow trees we planted in the clearing have already grown strong and tall and Felix has built an awning and some outbuildings along the west wall. The sight of home makes my heart flutter and the hairs on the back of my neck rise as I unlock the door and push into the velvet gloom beyond. Immediately, I am swamped by the familiar smell of apples stored in the cellar, of the stockpot in the kitchen, spices in the larder and the oak we used to carve the staircase. Upstairs, above me, someone stirs. I hear his footfalls, roused by the noise, descending in the scented dark. Then his voice, glorious and rich like whiskey and.
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