TRUE-LIFE
Choking back tears, I watched my classmates rip open the pink and red envelopes on their desks.
Valentine’s Day cards full of hearts and cute poems, and signed ‘love’ with a question mark.
‘Who do you reckon yours is from?’ they whispered, eyes sparkling.
Yet my desk stayed empty.
It was February 2006 and I was 7.
Back home, my tears fell.
‘I was the only one who didn’t get a card,’ I sobbed to my mum Ina, then 41, and dad Jose, 38.
My uncle Charles, then 54, who everyone called Mick, was there, too.
‘It’ll be OK,’ he soothed.
And the next day, a card was pushed through the front door.
Addressed to me! Excitedly
