There’s a woman I see in my neighbourhood every morning who walks with her daughter.
Whether it’s a bright spring day or in the briskness of winter together they walk deep in conversation.
From behind you could hardly tell the difference. Both of them walk tall and straight – though they aren’t particularly tall women. Their hair slightly different shades of golden curls, one a little whiter now.
They hold themselves with that confidence some women just naturally have. Do you know it?
The daughter looks so much like her mother it’s like looking into a time machine – you just picture exactly who the elder woman was 30 years ago.
For eight years now I have lived here and seen them. Occasionally they miss a day, sometimes a week in the holidays but they always return.
Lately I have noticed a change, I have noticed the mother falling a little behind her daughter as she strikes her usual brisk pace, but each and every time the 30-something woman stops, angles her head towards her mum and pauses, waiting for her to catch up.