When I was four, I came from Glasgow to the idyllic Scottish countryside for my uncle’s wedding. Instead of hand-me-down clothes, I wore a new pink satin frock, my hair like sunshine. I danced along the village street and a couple called from their rose garden. Mr. Straw said I looked like a fairy princess and cut me a perfect pink rose to match my frock. Twenty years later, I visited the village and found Mr. Straw still in his wondrous garden. This time, he presented me with a whole bouquet of perfect roses because, he said, I remembered him.
Growing up in post-war Glasgow, Marya Miller has found loss and magic a theme that weaves its way through her stories, poems and books. Find Marya at maryamillerwriter.com.