But here we are a life time later, surrounded by three generations, grown children and their children, the evening sun soon to set in the windy part of the garden. The summer air heavy with lavender. We will have three days with them. Frederic will play the mandolin at the breakfast table—as when a boy. They will say he how much he looks like papa now. We will walk L’Orangerie Parc together, childhood Sundays relived, where storks still nest on sky poles, the botanical gardens marvelously overgrown. We will visit the family cemetery together, brother and sister crushed and tethered again by loss. We will see blooming hyacinths and wood violets spreading around the names of their parents, Adele & Jean-Luc,
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