Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – Seventy-Eight

I remember the day I met my father. 

Mama and I were in the garden feeding the birds. When the gate latch clicked, she turned her head to see who came. A very tall man stood in the gateway leaning on a walking stick. For an instant Mama froze then picked up her skirts and ran. The man dropped his cane and she ran into his arms. After a moment Mama turned and beckoned, so I went to her side.

I looked up, and up some more, to see my own strangely colourless eyes shining in a seamed brown face….

©️jj 2018

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