The Magnolia trees – one with purple and one with white flowers, stand close to one another. Its their blosoming time. My father's gift – the reclining wooden chair, sturdy and comfy under the oak tree allows us to rest, to read in shade just like my father did looking after our needs. Now the grass needs mowing, the flower bed needs weeding, the vegetable patch needs care; but, I'm tired. Last year around this time my father departed. He no longer could come to visit us, may be in dreams.
AuthorI started late to become a writer, after I graduated from the University of Auckland at the age of 57. It all began when one of my articles was first published in Muse, a magazine in Hong Kong. I just finished my first novel Tree which is about Chinese immigrants here in New Zealand. Being bipolar it hasn't been easy but I'm proud to have broken the vicious cycle and begin to enjoy life. I'm glad to have survived to this age and be able to live a most fulfilling life. Categories |
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