Chapter 67

chapter sixty-seven

When Joy’s children saw her again they each hugged her in a way they hadn’t hugged her since childhood. They were the fierce, desperate hugs that once followed nightmares, when she could feel the rapid hammer of fragile hearts in tiny chests as they clung to her.

Both her sons lifted her clear off the floor, just like their father did.

Both her sons cried, just like their father did.

Neither of her daughters shed a tear. They scolded her, like frightened mothers scold lost children on their return. ‘You must promise to never ever do anything like that again, Mum! You must wear your glasses when you send a text! You must never leave the house without your phone!’

She enjoyed being told off by them. She could hear the rhythms of her own voice, her mother’s voice, her grandmother’s voice, every relieved cranky woman from the beginning of time.

*

It was nice to hold on to the memories of those fierce, desperate hugs when the hugging stopped.