Post 1605. Wednesday September 20
She’d wave her stick as we ran away giggling about our latest prank. We were horrible kids and taunted Hilda repeatedly.
I clear houses now. Someone dies, nobody cares, so I empty them. I went to Hilda’s dilapidated house. I pushed open the door, sweeping aside junk mail and some cobweb covered shoes. On a dusty dresser stood photos of children. One holding a certificate, another dancing, one in a wheelchair. I found a letter from a hospice. Thank you, Mrs. Hodges, it said, and below were dozens of children’s names; big, small, wobbly, neat, the way kid's signatures are. And kisses. Lots of kisses.
I hope we’ll meet again Hilda, up there. There’s something I need to say.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and Sarah Potter for the photo.