A leisurely walk across the street to the mailbox from the shop where I had heard the familiar sound of the mailtruck slowing down and stopping, a blip of wheels, a stop, and it goes on down the street and turns the corner. The second stop meant mail for us.
A white cardboard folder often means another framing job for me, and this may be no exception. Rather anticlimactically I withdraw the certificate with my name; proof that I am indeed a holder of degree.
Yee-haw.
What does it mean? Not what I thought it would; not an end, but a beginning.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
And you will frame it of course! Congratulations on a job well done.
Congratulations. We’ll sing a song at the next narratives meeting.
Thank you, thank you. A song would be lovely.