rchan: (smile -- xd_inc)
My mother moved from one town to another when she was 16 years old. Just a couple of miles away, but at that age, that may as well be a continent. Her father had just died, and she left all her friends and everything familiar behind. Her last two years of high school were... well. Not pleasant ones. Fifty years later, you can still here the resentment in her voice when she talks about that move. There are really only three people from her second school that she ever mentioned with any fondness at all, only one of those three was someone she called a friend -- her best friend, Diane.

Now, I never met Diane. She moved to England at least 8 years before I was born. And my mom never really talked about her when I was growing up -- not until I was older. Turns out, they'd lost touch. My mom had been to visit her before I was born, but by the time we visited England when I was 16, they'd lost track of each other. But when I was old enough to understand that that could happen, my mom talked about her and the memories were always good ones.

Then a few years ago, my mom got on Facebook, and, lo and behold... they found each other! )
rchan: (YnM -- extras -- xd_inc)
I've been having thinky thoughts this morning.

As some of you may know, I have this little Les Miserables obsession I've been cultivating for the past few months. And as part of any healthily growing Les Mis obsession, one begins to wonder about the book which started it all -- Les Miserables, affectionately called "The Brick", by Victor Hugo. These days, it's easy to pick it up free from B&N for the Nook, or Amazon for the Kindle, or simply off of Project Gutenberg. The point is, for someone only starting to dabble in the idea of reading that monstrosity, I wanted to dip my toes in first.

So, I did. )

September 2017



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