The Visit

Kim’s baked Mom’s carrot cake and made her trademark lemonade. They’ll eat on the balcony. She’s approached the visit the way Mom would have. Might be the wrong tactic. But she hasn’t talked to him without her mother’s moderation for years. She needs the comfort of how things used to be done.

When the doorbell rings, she experiences a brief flutter of panic. There he is, armed with flowers. She shows him around.

‘Your mother’d be so proud.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘I wish she could see your new home.’

‘Me too. But I’m glad you’re here.’

Dad smiles. Kim smiles back.


Finding Home

She woke up feeling sore and exhausted. She needed a fix if she wanted to keep going.

Trouble was, the place looked a mess. She hoisted herself up from the makeshift bed. How was she to find her gear?

There. That box smelled promising . She tore it open. Inhaled the aroma. She filled the kettle, ground enough beans for a strong coffee. The smell filled the room. The smell of home. She took a sip. Yes, she could do this. She’d unpack, get this mess under control.

Next time she moved, though, she’d label her most important box ‘coffee paraphernalia’.