that comes once in a while. The sun peeps out from behind a cloud onto an earth recently rained on. That's the first sign.
The second sign is the sound of crickets making music to which the whole of nature listens.
The third sign is the child in my lap, leaning casually against my chest, so unconscious of the delight he gives me by this simple action. Not knowing how I want to clutch him there, hold him by me in the sunlight so that he will never know darkness.
And then he turns slightly towards me and speaks words, so quietly it's almost as if he's talking to himself instead of to me. Words that seep into me the same way that sunwarmth does when I bask in it. The words are these:
'I love you, Auntie Manda.'