🍜Apple compote Apples, slicedI have a book signing at a local bookstore, and the young girl from the youth conference comes, holding a copy of my book, her own mirror selfies printed out and taped inside. “You changed my life,” she says, and I hug her, tears in my eyes.
Friends are the family we pick for ourselves. The clock strikes three, and Clara rises, stretching, resolving to brew another pot of tea, to settle by the window, to reread the letters, to honor the love that Mrs. Henderson and William had, to relish the peaceful afternoon.