Write About It

by Agnieszka Wolsoncroft Thursday last week marked three years since my Babcia left us. I was walking through a shopping centre on an ordinary Sunday when I felt it. A heat wave, sudden and complete, moving through my whole body. Not a hot flush. Not a dizzy spell. Something else entirely—a warmth that felt like arms around me, like someone pressing their cheek to mine the way she always had. I remember thinking: this is not a good day for shopping. I'll go home.