That was the word that came to mind. Out on a walk on a Sunday afternoon, I led her by the hand, as she tended to wander if I didn’t.
“Let’s go down here,” I suggested.
My aged companion, who seemed to age so noticeably these days, nodded in acquiescence as if the saying why not?
“Are there goblins or fairies down here?” she asked.
“Well, let’s see,” I replied.
“I’m hoping for fairies as I don’t like goblins much, nasty creatures goblins. They like to peck your eyes out.”
We wandered along the pathway; it was beautiful, the bush a relief from the dourness of a year ago when we’d been ravaged by bushfires.
“Stop,” she called, “can you see them? Aren’t they delightful?”
She was pointing at a small grotto someone had set up as a memorial. There was a photo of a young girl.
My aged companion’s fairy.