Fifteen pairs of eyes turned to look at me as I stepped into the English country garden.
We were all there to celebrate Barbara’s 78th birthday. Everyone there was a survivor. One had had sepsis. Another had had a child with a very rare disease. Another four siblings had survived their father’s marital affair. The Grandad had the beginnings of Alzheimer’s.
Every face was dear to me. But the most beautiful face, the face full of grace, was Barbara’s.
As she saw me step out of the house into the garden party, Barbara’s eyes connected with mine. Her smile crinkled her face and she held out her arms.
“Hello, you”, she said.
I moved into her folding, loving arms and the sun shone on us as One.
Professor Emerita living in the Australian hinterland. Management academic researching narrative identity. Autoethnographer. Story Whisperer. Epiphany collector
