A few days ago, Julie brought me my diary.

"I was emptying some boxes," she said. "My children needed them for their toys. I found your diary in one of them. It has been there for four years. You have a lot to write in it now."

A lot. Yes. But where shall I start? And what do I want to remember? Many things have happened. Some seemed important at the time but are almost forgotten now. for example, there were Oscars first words, and his first little walk across the room; but now Oscar is four years old.

I must write one thing first. Mama died last summer, Julie and I were sitting in the garden when Joseph brought us Etiennes letter. Mama had died suddenly, in her sleep.

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