“I went out to the Hazel wood, because a fire was in my head.”
The fire was lit by my dead kin, now sprightly skipping and dancing amongst the bluebells of hazelwood as if young again.
All they wanted was to say goodbye.
Corona having taken them, my elderly kin. Laying together in each other’s arms. Dying together as they had lived together. Their love robust enough to last the 70 years since kisses in the school playground.
Their love of us their kin bringing us here to Hazel wood. To watch them dance like they had in the school playground.
The fire in my head shared with all us kin of hazel wood. Calling us to pay witness to their final dance.
Grandma and Grandpa teach us how one last time.
How to build our robust love into sprightly love that never dies.
