TWENTY NINE

LILY’s POV

“What’s done is done.”  - Hilliard MacBeth

I never thought I would see mother again. But here she is standing right in front of me in her little shack. Water drips through the cracks of the corrugated roof and sunlight streams in from the termite infested planked walls, shedding some light into the otherwise darkened place.

Gingerly cupping my face, mother caresses my face. “Lily, you’re back,” she says in a quivering voice.

I nod, taking take her hands in mine and squeezing them gently in a reassuring way noting how much older she looks since the last time I saw her. Gazing at mother, I am met with lines that etch deep into her forehead and dull, sunken eyes from endless days of grief and worry. Her shoulders are hunched and she looks so frail with skin practically clinging to her bones. When did mother become so old?

I place a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, mother. I am back. No on