Dear Little Lamper,
we travelled two hundred and forty miles.
A cross-country trip, and the sun dripping hot, molten tarmac. It burnt our eyes. We chased down tractors and joined the queue, a motorway becalmed. But we travelled two hundred and forty miles.
We played music along the way - contemplative, loud. A soundtrack to our journey.
Little Lamper, we got lost along the way. Followed the down-load, but strayed in a country side-road too soon. Pulled up and called. Your mum answered, your dad spoke. We pulled into a sun-baked car-park and waited. For family.
You came, all three and met us in the dying sun. Your mum carried you so proudly across. And placed you in the loving arms of your grandmother. How can we ever forget the way she smiled?
Two hundred and forty miles. To be with you all.
love from Grumps
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