Petra

Pa and Mags are in the lantern room. Mutti ahs a shawl around her shoulders and is drinking a mug of molled wine. Pa's steaming hot mug of coffee is waiting patiently on the wooden counter of our Lighthouse. I fling the blackout blinds off the tinted windows of me and big sisters room. The grey skies cry devastatedly and heavily with rainwater. The clifftop is soaked. I play with my blonde, bounxy curls and run downstairs into the arms of my Mutti.