In Part One I told you about losing my precious brooch. In Part Two I told you about how I discovered the depth of my mother's love, she who had gifted the brooch to me when I was 16. (This July marked 20 years since she died.)
I also told you how I accepted that the brooch was gone for good.
"I've found your brooch!' he announced.
He was weeding the mondial grass beside the gate post, and his hand struck something hard. There was the lost brooch, none the worse for wear after all that time in the elements. 'Must be good silver,' he commented.
I raced up First Street, crossed the busy main road, and tripped down Second Street to knock on his door.
On ascertaining that he was a reader, I gave him a copy of my last book, 'Dancing with the Seasons'.
You may think that the story is finished, but there's one more thing. I suddenly remembered what I had done only twenty four hours earlier. Now this may just be a coincidence, but when I think about it a little shiver runs up and down my spine.
But look at the colours I chose: a blue cloth, a green candle-holder, a green plant, and above all, this glass heart that was a present from my dear old school friend.
Was my unconscious invoking a different kind of success?
Never mind what the answer might be. I have my beloved brooch back. And I have my mother's love enfolding me every day.