How do you measure the smallness of a town? Count the blocks between its borders, the farm animals grazing in residential front yards? Or how often “the usual” gets ordered at the corner cafe?
So as December 25th looms in New Zealand, I wonder about traditions: about this invisible baggage that’s so often heavier than the backpacks we carry – and a thousand times more valuable than every personal possession inside.
Somewhere beyond the fence of trees, their branches growing in links of green and brown, lies a graveyard. We can see no marble headstones, no dried flowers or markers of […]