Remembering

I didn’t sleep well, for several (mostly cat-shaped) reasons, and gave myself the day off - the privilege of working freelance. 

In the afternoon, I went for a walk in the vineyards. 

Today would have been my father’s birthday. While he lived, he liked to spend the day in his favourite hotel near St. Moritz in Switzerland. For many years after his death, my mother and I used to go for long walks on his birthday (weather permitting), from her house in the hills down into the Rhine valley and back.

Now I’m walking and remembering on my own. My mother doesn’t know the significance of the day anymore, and I don’t like to remind her of something that makes her sad.