Mamma, you must get up. We must have something to eat. Otherwise we will never have the strength to fight. And this is a fight, Mamma. We are in a battle. It is still going on.
I don’t have the strength, my darling boy. I know I need to get up, but this evening, I am outweighed by pain and hopelessness. It’s gone too far for me to be able to see a way out. I can only see darkness now, for you, for us. I cannot see a way of taking you to the places we used to talk to you about, your Pappa and I. I cannot see him coming back, and even if he did, for what? To what? To shame? To humiliation?
My darling Mamma, when I grow up, I will show you how wrong you were to give up this evening. I will take you to the top of the mountain, to the clear snow, where the leopard pads silently along the white ridge and her breath comes out in a great cloud, and the glistening waterfall has frozen into huge icicles behind which dance the bear cubs, waking up into a world full of wonder…
How strange. You remind me of a world I haven’t seen for so long that I feel now as though it is all a dream. Perhaps it’s still there, that place that you imagine.
I’m not imagining, Mamma. I’ve seen it. I know it’s there. Somewhere. Wait. Listen. There’s someone at the door. Shall I let them in?
