“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
I slipped a British stamp — Queen Elizabeth’s head on a purple background—next to an identical orange one.
“Oui, allo?” In her brightest voice, Maman proceeded to say how wonderfully everything was going, how well Etienne and I were doing at our new school, and how safe we all were. Not to worry, she repeated. Pas de problème. All is well. Pas de soucis. Ne vous en faites pas.
She held the phone out to me. “Don’t tell them about last night,” she whispered with her hand over the receiver. “Don’t say anything about la bombe.”
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