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  • It was a cold, snowy november day. I remember that much although I was only about five at the time, if that. It was one of those cold, crisp, snowy days when you could hear the silence of the snow. Moredun convent was always like that though.

    I'm the little guy at the end of the line and the nun in the middle is my sister. The rest are my family; Parents, brother and sisters, all of us looking like we're auditioning for the Von Trapp family from Sound of music. The only sound I could hear though was the chattering of my teeth and the rythmic knocking of my knees.

    We had gone to see my sister - a Roman Catholic missionary sister - on one of her few visits home from doing Gods work in Africa. Back then, she always stayed at the convent in Paisley, half an hour away from us by train, and while she did enjoy seeing us, her heart was in Africa. Always has been, always will be. Only age and a change in papal policy brought her back to the UK for good, although she still works locally.

    Looking at the photo from then, I wonder, now, who those people were really. We all change so much not only physically but mentally, emotionally, internally. What would we say to those people from back then? What would they have to tell us? What wisdom could we all share, were it possible to physically bridge the gap of time, I wonder?

    Three of the people in the photo are no longer with us now though, having stepped across the divide between this world and the next. Perhaps they can hear the sound of music?
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