“So far, so good,” my text editor tells me. I’m staring at a blank screen. Without words, there are no errors for the text editor to find.
A year ago, in the space where once was our main farm-home, a heap of rubble poked me in the eye.
When I first came there after the fire, before the walls had fallen, I could almost imagine my mother-in-law stepping out of the front door. Greeting us, as she had always done. I can still feel her soft embrace, I can still see the silent sparkle in her eye at our arrival.
When you stepped into the burnt down house, the walls crumbled at a mere touch. So, we hit the whole thing down, and then slowly started removing the rubble.
We needed a space to put down our head, so we concentrated on converting the outside storeroom into a livable flat…
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