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  • It was the day before my birthday. My mother had just been buried. I had been suicidal for three months. Given very limited sessions with a therapist for support, I was at my last one.

    I don’t remember what I spoke about that day. I was on autopilot. He was kind and encouraging that I could come through this thing and out the other side, that I’d done so well to come this far. He was young, my age approximately, and he really seemed to see me. Though I would crash into crisis point a week or two later, that day I believed him that I could perhaps make life work.

    “Hey! Would you like a lolly for your birthday?” He nudged me on the way out grinning cheekily.

    “Yes please.” I smiled, a little bit bashful.

    So silly, so kind, I was strangely touched by the gesture. A part of me lost under pain and loss broke through the surface and could breathe for a moment.

    “What colour?” he asked grabbing a jar.

    “Green.” I said (mother’s favourite.)

    “Here. Look after yourself, Leilani. Enjoy your lolly!”

    We made eye contact.

    “Thank you.”

    I took my treasure home and kept it as a talisman until today when, for no particular reason, and despite the fact it was now a couple of years past it's best, I decided to eat it.
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