By Deborah Walker
Silence is an empty house. My daughter is making her way in the world. I hope that she’ll meet someone special in the city.
At the year’s close my daughter comes home, bringing her beau with her. I light the candles, draw the decorations onto the earth floor. I hang the mistletoe and the ivy and slaughter the animal for the celebration.
It was worth the wait. I look with pride at the feast. My daughter’s man, laid out so handsome on the table. The eggs on his meat. Praise be! I’m going to be a Grandma.
Bio: Find Deborah in the British Museum trawling the past for future inspiration or on her blog: http://deborahwalkersbibliography.blogspot.co.uk/