It’s a mixed up day.

There was a Polish girl. There clearly was. She was clearly very important. I remember peppermint sticks and sticky lips and fingers and laps and cuddles and cookies and being read to.

And I miss her. I miss her like I used to miss Nata. It is quite, quite horrible, only it is more horrible because it is more vague. There is less that is clear-cut to remember of her.

There is more to say, but today I just don’t have any words left.

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