Dad; your still very special to me; In the wind and the sun and the rain as the years fold away into one you continue to be my someone. I was eight when I stole that jelly-baby
There was no play-school for children as special as Tom in her days. No specialist she knew about who could help her, make suggestions, as to how her 24 hour situation could be handled. No D.L.A.
One of the doctors had said to her kindly, unknowingly touching her on part of her wrist where she’ accidentally scalded herself, that it might be a good idea if she considered her options.
She’d told Tom that in her days folk only had one dustbin. That in her day’s people didn’t have central heating and in her days the bin lid was used for drawing the fire up in the hearth.
People hope tomorrow will be better should the letter be sent or dropped in the bin with secrets kept close to the heart. People hope for the coming of summer of clothes of various hue's