Читать книгу From Christmas To Forever? - Marion Lennox - Страница 4

I was raised in a farming community, where everyone knew everyone and where our doctor seemed the linchpin of our lives. Doc—he needed no other name—was known to walk fifteen miles between clinics during wartime petrol rationing. By the time he delivered me he was in his eighties, and he worked on until I was in my teens. We never called him unless we truly needed him, but when we did he gave his all. I remember his grandson telling me what it was like at Doc’s house at Christmas. You couldn’t move for whisky, he said, and grateful gifts of home-baked goodies and produce were almost an embarrassment. When he died, the entire district mourned.

In a way, this book is a testament to Doc and to the caring community I was raised in. My husband and I have recently—joyously—moved back to a small town. As I write this I’m looking forward to Christmas in our new/old home, in our new/old community, and I’m wishing you the magic of belonging. I’m also wishing you the love shown by Doc, and by so many medical staff who follow his tradition of care, and I’m wishing you a very happy Christmas.

Marion Lennox