I just walked out to the dining room, looking for dad to say goodnight. There was a portfolio on the table. It was red and had an intricate gold decoration of flowers on the front. I opened it up. It enclosed records from the National Archives. It was information about my grandparents on dads side.
I've never met them. Only ever seen a few photos... Never knew much about them.
Inside were Immigration papers, letters, application forms.
My handwriting is freakishly similar to my grandmothers, Elizabeth. The way we write our s, is identical.
It's the strangest feeling.
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