Why You Were Taken
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Every word of this novel is dedicated to my writing mentor & very dear friend, Laurence Cramer, who taught me to never walk slowly.
Mister L, you packed more sap and spirit into your short time on earth than most people do in a lifetime. I’ll never forget feeling my baby boy kicking inside me at your funeral; asserting the cycle of life. Easing my devastation.
How I ached to see your sons struck fatherless. How it burned to see how much you were loved by so many.
A lifetime lesson in your passing, too: ‘Grab Life by the Balls,’ I can hear you say, late at night when the darkness pulls at my sleeves.
I see your light, Mister L.
Thank you for the writing. To me, you’ll live forever.
Johannesburg, August 2021
She is holding the pale plastic object in her hand as she has done so many times before. She puts it down alongside her on the bay window where she sits, cocooned in billowing curtains, and picks it up again. Puts it down, picks it up. It’s a nervous but practised movement, a dance she has rehearsed for years but never quite mastered.