The night was a pleasant one, warm with a gentle cooling breeze in the air. The stars shone like fairy lights, brighter than anything among the night sky, black as ebony. And the moon was breath-taking. It glowed like the joy I saw in my father's eyes, no more than magic. I could smell the sweet aroma of the air, the undisturbed scent of the Flowers in the garden. But there was another smell, one I hadn't inhaled for years. A rich, fruity scent of my mother's perfume. And I could feel the warmth of the embrace I was en-rapt in and the strength it held. I could taste something bitter-sweet, something I couldn't define, but something I enjoyed. All that aside, what I could taste, smell, feel and see, none of it was nearly as important as what I could hear. If it were possible to take the words you hear and frame them and put them up on your wall as though they were a PhD or a Van Gogh, I would have, at that very moment. Because the words I could hear, and the voice I heard saying them, made something inside me melt, as though that thing were an ice cream in the afternoon sun, or an igloo in Darwin. Three words, three simple words, that I have been waiting my whole life to hear. Sure, I'd heard them before; from my Dad, my aunt, my grandma and my many boyfriends. But to hear them from the one person that I haven't seen since before infancy, since I had first opened my eyes, made me feel as if my life were suddenly complete.
"I love you." a voice whispered in my ear. But not just any voice. No way. It was a voice of high importance. It was the voice of my mother.
