A strange sight: A Nikon camera and a wheelchair; an ageing senior and a vibrant young woman. But none of that crosses my mind as I wheel my mother up the ramp into the hospital's premises.

I was mama's last-born, the 'mistake' who came when she was approaching middle age. My older siblings are too busy to care, but I'll never leave mama alone; just as I would never leave behind my camera.

It seems a lifetime ago I wrote my final papers and stepped into the world, full of hope and hungry for opportunities. But life had other plans – mama fell sick, and I had to put it all on hold. I know my circumstances are less than ideal, but my camera is that lifeline that keeps me from drowning in depression.

I pause by the nurses’ station to inquire about whether the doctor’s in.

“Hey, darling, you’re blocking the bin,” I hear a voice say behind me. This is followed closely by: “Are you okay?”

I sigh and mutter, but I move out of the way. “Yes, I’m fine.”

A few seconds tick by. “I can’t help but notice you have a Nikon hanging from your neck.”

Irritated, I turn around to give the intruder a piece of my mind, but I stop dead in my tracks.

“Isabel Williams??”

A smile breaks across her face. “Wow. I never thought anyone would recognize me here.”

“B-but, h-how… what is—?” The words are coming out of my mouth faster than I can think of them.

“Ssh.” She places a scented Daffodil Dream finger on my lips, stemming the words. Reading the desire in my eyes, she pulls out a pen and signs my camera with a flourish. To my surprise, she tilts up my face to look into her eyes. “Chin up, girl. I know you’ll pull through this.” She whips out a business card, “But if you need me, you can always find me here. You be good now.”

Then she floats out through the doors like the mist on a cold harmattan morning.

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