“Come here, little sugar pillow,” my husband used to say, enfolding me in his arms on our sleep-in Saturday mornings. He died before I mastered his native Icelandic and learned he’d been using the literal translation of “marshmallow.” I still glance at my love handles, wondering just what he’d meant.
Râna had a beautiful decade of living in the northwest of Iceland interrupted by the pandemic, and she’s now preparing for the zombie apocalypse in her hometown of Montreal.
So perfectly written with such a humorous side.
sweet
A cherishable memory told bravely.
That’s yet another beautiful and touching story from you, Râna! Loved it….
Lovely, good job. The “literal translation” was the killer. Thanks 👍
Lovely. Sorrow and humor. Like life.