The Attic Child

by Lola Jaye

I nodded my head rapidly, slowly becoming used to wanting one thing yet readily agreeing to the opposite.

I realized it contained a wad of papers including my parents’ marriage certificate and my mother’s passport. My heart instantly warmed, yet my stomach churned. These papers represented bits of a life that promised so much and yet had delivered nothing.

Having been so tied up with reading about great men from the past I was never actually going to meet, I’d failed to seek out the greatness happening around me.

It was as if my empathy wouldn’t allow me to see her sadness in isolation; I needed to be responsible for lifting her up, or else my day would also be ruined.