“This is our daughter,” the wife said.
“Hello, nice to meet you. Your parents are trying to murder me with bread.”
We chatted for a little bit, but I had to get walking.
As the husband drove me down off the mountain back to the Ise-ji path, he said, “She’s not … our daughter.”
Suddenly with more fluency: “She just appeared, seven years ago, was wandering the country, needed a job, somehow … found us. She is not a daughter but like a daughter. Time passes, and that’s what happens. Things become … other things.”
Craig is a wonderful storyteller. His newsletter is always worth a read. Always interesting in ways you never expect.