We sat in silence gazing into the peat fire. Memory led me back down the road to yesterday. She was out in the future and wandering in an unknown continent with only hope to guide her. Yet we must get together, and that quickly.
"Minutes are like fine gold now," she said, "an' my tongue seems glued, but I jist must spake."
"We have plenty of time, mother."
"Plenty!" she exclaimed. "Every clang of th' town clock is a knife cuttin' th' cords—wan afther another—that bind me t' ye."
"I want to know about your hope, your outlook, your religion," I said.
"Th' biggest hope I've ever had was t' bear a chile that would love everybody as yer father loved me!"
"A sort of John-three-sixteen in miniature."
"Aye."
"The aim is high enough to begin with!"
"Not too high!"