We gathered in the museum and studied the small dried thing behind the glass.
“Look what they’ve done to my dream,” said Dad.
Four little words, locked tightly in her heart all these years, in part because of her stoic upbringing where a show of emotions was embarrassing to her parents, and another part due to her shy nature, suddenly escaped her lips with a fierce gentleness and a welling of relief.
“I love you dad,” now emerged from her heart and her mouth accompanied by the sad realization that these words that she longed to say all her life, would fall on deaf ears, for the dead don’t hear.
Dad kicked the bucket.
Mum kicked it right back.
People are always giving away pets and some of them say they’ll visit but they never do.
Me and my brother are forever grateful as we lower the mewling bucket down the well to Dad.