The hearth-light licked my face and a warmth soaked through my clothes and glowed in my body. She sat in silhouette, a little to the left of the hearth, bent over her mending, humming a deep tune. Her hair, once deep red, was streaked through with silver and tied in a loose plait down the middle of her long back. The earth-room felt like a golden bowl that held us both.
She did not speak. She did not turn. I was drawn to her and sat on a small hand-made stool beside her.
Suddenly she lifted her face, as if she hadn't heard me coming, dropped her mending and threw her arms out wide in an invitation to embrace. As I fell against her and locked my arms around her full body, I sighed into a sea of gentleness. All weight fell from my shoulders and the tight lines in my face softened. I wanted to stay just like this forever.
She grasped my shoulders in her strong bony hands and held me back at arms length, looking deeply into my eyes. I felt like she was drinking me, though I was also drinking her. Instead of crumpling under scrutiny, I sat tall and knew I was beloved.
