Friday, 11 March 2011
From Fiona Togia
Estelle giggling cross legged on the floor at Frank-Evans place , as Jamie the West Highland White eats an apple. Dogs just shouldn’t do that.
Estelle endlessly refolding and resorting her clothes in the wardrobe, even though they were perfectly folded and in colour, size and style type already.
Estelle in really large nightshirts her father delivered in t-shirt stacks.
Estelle mad as heck because her sisters messed the bathroom.
Estelle with legs forever.
Estelle with the eyes that talk. Flashing her ire, telling us silently with those eyes, “You can’t be serious.” Eyes full of love for her mother. Laughing eyes.
I knew Estelle the fledgling, just beginning to test the wind for the direction of flight. So much potential, such passion and contained energy.
Estelle have you had enough of the world? The world did not have enough of you.
Estelle at peace. Gone too soon.