What a stunning remembering and sharing, their presence with you always. The three of you sharing a bond of being gifted writers and the bond of presence to one another even in physical absence.
I started reading this chapter with interest, soon turning to a depth of sadness. I remember my cousins, slightly older than me, with much fondness. Rupert, a dashingly handsome teenager in ragged, scruffy jeans and always fun to be around him. Simon, also good looking, but exceptionally kind, caring and helpful.
Our parents, despite their unwittingly unintended mistakes, if any, loved us unconditionally. But the egregious and perverted behaviour of those adults, for their own depraved gratification at the expense of young, innocent children, trusted in their care, away from home (probably already suffering from home sickness), is grossly loathsome; especially as it appears to have been quite prevalent in boarding public schools.
I will always remember Rupert and Simon as an especially precious and positive part of my childhood.
Oh my word Emma... a wordsmith writing about sibling wordsmith... this is my favorite chapter. Exquisite words but so uncomfortable - they need much pondering. That poem... those memories...
Thank you, Angie. You are such a supportive reader. I've just had the lovely surprise of winning a prize for a version of a paragraph that's in this chapter!
What a vivid tribute to your late brothers, Emma. Love the glimpses of their own writing. And those insights into public schools, which seem so crowded but lonely.
You write beautifully Emma
Thank you so much for commenting, David. I've just had the lovely surprise of winning a prize for a version of a paragraph that's in this chapter!
Thanks for this Emma. Unique and powerful. I remember your brothers and remember when they died. Such a tragic, tragic loss. Those bloody schools...
Thank you, Carne. I've just had the lovely surprise of winning a prize for a version of a paragraph that's in this chapter!
What a stunning remembering and sharing, their presence with you always. The three of you sharing a bond of being gifted writers and the bond of presence to one another even in physical absence.
Thank you, Dawn. And it's strengthening to know that love doesn't die.
I started reading this chapter with interest, soon turning to a depth of sadness. I remember my cousins, slightly older than me, with much fondness. Rupert, a dashingly handsome teenager in ragged, scruffy jeans and always fun to be around him. Simon, also good looking, but exceptionally kind, caring and helpful.
Our parents, despite their unwittingly unintended mistakes, if any, loved us unconditionally. But the egregious and perverted behaviour of those adults, for their own depraved gratification at the expense of young, innocent children, trusted in their care, away from home (probably already suffering from home sickness), is grossly loathsome; especially as it appears to have been quite prevalent in boarding public schools.
I will always remember Rupert and Simon as an especially precious and positive part of my childhood.
Thank you, Emma!
Thank you dear Rosalyn. It’s very moving to read this. You and your family provided many happy times in our childhoods
Oh, Emma, how poignant, beautiful and unbearable. Your brothers would be proud of your tender tribute to them, I'm sure.
Thank you so much, Anna. I've just had the lovely surprise of winning a prize for a version of a paragraph that's in this chapter!
Oh my word Emma... a wordsmith writing about sibling wordsmith... this is my favorite chapter. Exquisite words but so uncomfortable - they need much pondering. That poem... those memories...
Thank you, Angie. You are such a supportive reader. I've just had the lovely surprise of winning a prize for a version of a paragraph that's in this chapter!
Congratulations! Well deserved. Lovely news.
What a vivid tribute to your late brothers, Emma. Love the glimpses of their own writing. And those insights into public schools, which seem so crowded but lonely.
Thank you, Wendy. I'm thrilled to have just won a London Writers Salon prize. Feels like the best of Christmas presents!
Absolutely brilliant! I have no words….
Thank you dearest Anne. It means a lot to me that yo liked this chapter.
Absolutely brilliant! I have no words….