This is about a memory I will never forget.
One afternoon, many years ago, my daughter Nina was playing outside at her mini playground. Nina was 7 at the time. I was preparing lunch for us in the kitchen and as I was about to call her through the window to come and eat, I realised she was no longer there. As any parent would I panicked as I couldn’t find her outside when suddenly she came down from upstairs smiling.
“Where were you? I thought you were outside still, I didn’t hear you came in?” I said while trying to hold back my panic attack. She said, “Mama took me upstairs to look at my arm when I fell from the swing outside.” I realised she got a cut on her arm and she was holding a cloth to cover it. When I took a look, the wound was already cleaned. It was only the two of us home at the time. And of course the “mama” she mentioned was my mother, her grandma, we all called her “mama”. But mama died almost 4 years ago.