They say you never fully appreciate someone until they are gone. That was certainly true of Uncle Peter. All at once, my workload doubled. Even with six-year-old Garry's help, I was stretched thinner than Saran wrap. I had to prioritize. Projects that were time-consuming and nonessential had to be put on the back burner or abandoned altogether. For example, the second wheat field had to go unplanted, and I had to scrap Uncle Peter's plans for paving a narrow road leading to the poop pit. Most of my free time was forfeit, and fourteen-hour days were not uncommon.
Another thing I missed about Uncle Peter... his company. He made working a lot more fun. It was nice to have him to talk to and crack jokes with. And he almost never failed to bolster my mood when I needed it.
On more than one occasion, I was laboring away in the fields, and I'd think of something amusing. I'd smile and turn to share it with Uncle Peter... Then I'd remember... And my smile would disappear. When someone important in your life is gone, they can leave an awfully large hole.
If you have never lost your best friend to a sudden illness - I can't fully describe the despair. And if you have - well, then you know.
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Agoraphobia
General FictionA heroic eleven-year-old girl struggles to survive in a dying world plagued by a contagious form of agoraphobia (fear of being outside).
