Karen Chaboyer's Blog

The year I turned six, it was my turn to start school. I can clearly remember
the sound of my mother pouring the water into the galvanized tub until it
was full. The room was warm from the stove as she heated the water. She
gently picked me up and placed me into the tub that she normally used to
hand wash our clothes. The warmness of the water was soothing to my
body as it trickled down my skin. As my mother scrubbed me, I repeatedly
questioned, “Ma, where am I going?”

She was silent for several minute...