My mother-in-law is one of the kindest and gentlest people I know. She’s always there for us, cooking, cleaning, and doing everything she can to care for the family. My father-in-law had arrived in the UK a few years before her. The story goes that when she landed at Heathrow, he wasn’t there to meet her. A stranger, a kind man who had come to collect his own wife, offered to take her to the address she had for him in Southall.
When they knocked on the door, the person who answered said, “Oh, there’s no one by that name here.” For a moment, my mother-in-law was in shock—what was she to do? Where could she go, all alone in a foreign country? Just as she was frozen in uncertainty, a voice from behind called out, “There is a man who lives upstairs. It might be him.”
Thankfully, it was him, and they were reunited. My father-in-law never did receive the telegraph letting him know that my mother-in-law had boarded the plane. Oil on paper 16 x 20 inches