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23 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 18, 2013
It was a terrible winter. The cold chased away every corner of warmth until there was only cold, cold, and more cold. Tea turned to slush between pouring and sipping
In the morning, men came and took Papa out through a window -- for the dead should not pass through the doors of the living -- and carried him to the bathhouse. There, they dressed him in clothes sewn with an unknotted thread and the buttons on backward before bearing him to his new home in the cemetery.
I mused on this as I trekked back home, a distraction from my frost-gnawed toes and ice-nipped fingers, and the grim clouds overhead. At least the snow held off until I was close enough to see the smoke from our stove, a blessing that earned my fervent thanks to all the saints who watch over foolish girls who dawdle on winter errands.