16 August 2015
Nearly every book of mine has a card of some sort tucked in it — to keep the place. I’d forgotten all about the one that fell out this week when I was “dusting”. The size of a visiting card, this one is specially precious because it’s by my mother. The tiny painting is of a lily, in white, green and gold.
It was an Easter card given to me in 1955 and the colours are as bright as when she did it 60 years ago. My image of her, sitting at her painting table under the window, with her legs twined round the high stool she habitually sat on, is equally sharp.
And the reason I had marked the page is because of two lines written by St Robert Belarmine, S.J.:
“I took the opportunity to give him a good brotherly reproof…
then to sweeten the medicine I sent him some trout.”