Page 193 - DivineSparkRisingFinal

Nicholas Boothman
Epilogue
The letter has worn thin at the folds. He has
carried it too long, opened it too often. But still, he
reads it again.
My dear Lina,
I don’t know if these words will ever reach you.
It feels strange to write after so many years, but
here I am in a village where life moves slower,
quieter, wrapped in a kind of peace I never
expected to find.
The days are simple, woodsmoke at dawn, goat
bells on the road, children’s laughter carrying until
the hills swallow the sun. Ordinary things, but they
stay with me in ways I can’t explain.
It should be enough. Sometimes I almost believe
it is. But then I see the children growing up, and I
see the patterns.
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