“Here. I have something for you.” Rama handed Mano a slip of paper. “I found it among some old leases. Your father wrote it the night you came into this world. He loved you very much. I remember he used to rush home from his duties in order to play with you. He wanted you to have this as a memento.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Mano looked at her father’s precise writing. Saturday, April 16th, Easter Eve, child born at 10 minutes to 8 p.m. in 1881. Mano’s hand shook. “Why did you keep this from me?”
“I didn’t. I simply forgot to give it to you.”
“For twenty years?”
“Apparently. I thought you’d be pleased. Instead you accuse me of withholding something significant. I’ve never kept anything from you.”
“Mama, these words tell me Father loved me even though I’m a girl.” Mano burst into tears.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish