Momo was long gone as was the snow and the tree. Everywhere was bare, full of dust with sheets over furniture that had been left behind. I pulled the sheets back. Yes, it was the same old furniture, Mofa's leather chair and foot stall where I saw Momo, just a moment ago. No trace of the tree. It was real, I mean it was actually there, right in front of my eyes. Now it looks like it has disolved, right under my nose.
I sneak a peak under the closest sheet. Under one of the sheets I saw the edge of a large gold frame, I pull the sheets back expecting to see a mirror. It wasn't, it was a painting of the tree that I had just seen. It was beautiful. It was painted on raw silk and had gold thread outlines around the edges. The tree's trunk split into six and once again appeared like a wood, except when I caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye it looked more like a waterfall. In the painting it was easy to see the figures that float within the branches of life, situation and relationships. I wondered if one of them was Momo. It looked like the same church where mum and dad got married, could it be?
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