My uncle John came to visit me, at a farm I was sent to when mother
had go to a sanatorium far way. He knew the farmer couple and stayed
for a week helping out . It was his summer holiday and he had to go
back to work at the fish factory in the town.
I loved my uncle he was strong and told stories, in the evening, from
his life as an adventurer in Africa and America. I knew the tales were
not true, but I liked to hear them anyway.
The day he had to leave, on the afternoon bus, I fled to the outer fields
where sheep grazed, sat behind a stone hedge and thought life was sad.
He knew why I was hiding and came up to me spoke and ruffled my hair,
promised to come next year if things went well. I saw him board the bus
I waved, he waved back and life continued as it must.
