I pressed my hands over my ears and ran from the house, not even bothering to close the door behind me – I wasn’t going to listen to the lies that came from her mouth, I wasn’t going to listen to her tell me my Papa was gone, my hero, my mentor, my source of happiness in life.
Down the stone path I sprinted, as far away as possible, between pink and red and yellow flowers, past the fountain where the angel stood tall reaching out her hand in that comforting way, until finally I was at the clearing where he and I had come so many times, him sitting on the rock and me dancing as the sun disappeared into the majestic mountains as a milieu.
Today though, the sun was not in sight and angry grey clouds stood above me as it slowly started to sprinkle light drops of rain - I wish I had thought to bring something with me, a jumper, a blanket, a lifejacket that would keep me afloat as I drowned in my sorrow, my hopelessness, my despair.
All I had brought was myself.
I began to dance for him, as the rain fell around me.