Letter by Hazel Ellis-Saxon

Dear Jim

I am in Malawi.
It is 7.30 a.m. and I have just woken up.
I suspect you died last night.

Unable to get through to Eddie – the African bush is not known for rapid internet services – I can’t know for sure. And I have to leave my computer now to go and monitor a lion: my task for this morning. I pick up the lion’s paperwork then reach for some note paper so I can write you this letter, which you will never read. Then hesitate. Paper is very scarce around here, so I can’t just take a notepad. How many sheets of paper should I take? One piece? No, I won’t be able to say much on one piece. Three pieces? After fourteen years of friendship and so much more, can three pieces of notepaper be enough to tell you how much you have meant to me? Five pieces? Fifty? But this is not possible, more than three and the office staff would go into meltdown. I guiltily snatch up three pieces and hurry up the red dust road…

© Hazel Ellis-Saxon