Mum’s last letter.

Handwriting didn’t come easily to me, my words tumbled out across the page as fast as my thoughts would carry them but with no time for neatness clarity or punctuation. Laborious lessons trying to perfect a precise clear-cut style between the lines, the endless lines, my sister’s handwriting remains the same as it was in those joined up lessons at school. Mine still resembles ducklings charging towards some azure blue lake with all the joy of momentum, joy and not a care in the world for how it looks to the rest of the world.

Her last letter, heaven only knows why she posted the parcels so early for Christmas, perhaps she knew. Her last act of love. She died on the Sunday half a world away and by Friday I held her last letter in my hand. Her writing cut through the void, the years the tears, the fears.

Precision and care

Her words carefully planted.

Snowdrops cut through snow.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Author: alisonhankinson

I am a school teacher and a mum and a red cosmic skywalker, and sometimes a netball coach...but beneath it all I am a writer...

10 thoughts on “Mum’s last letter.”

  1. Girl, this is AWESOME:

    “Mine still resembles ducklings charging towards some azure blue lake with all the joy of momentum”

    I love the ending section about your mom, too.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My brain always scurried faster than I could write, so my writing was never neat. Your mother’s writing was so organized and neat, it speaks for her as a person I would guess. Thank you for sharing your lovely memory.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I love this, Alison! You are so lucky to have a last letter from your mum, which I know you will always treasure.
    Your haibun touched my heart and there are some phrases that jumped out at me: ‘my words tumbled out across the page as fast as my thoughts would carry them’ and ‘Mine still resembles ducklings charging towards some azure blue lake’.

    Liked by 1 person

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