In search of closure

For 25 years I went looking for answers to a heart-breaking rejection at 17. When I eventually found them however, I realised I'd be looking in the wrong places all along.

Twenty-eight years later I can still see the pale cream envelope that contained my entire future.

‘Farrah, this one’s for you…’ my mother called from the hallway, rifling through the bills and other flotsam that made its way through our letterbox each morning.

Back in the mid-nineties, I rarely got post. An occasional postcard from a friend at most; but t…