“The blossoms had just begun to open, and were now as much yellow as they were green. The branches tumbled into the yard, heavy with the weight of flowers and leaves, and there was my mother, all alone. She was smoking a cigarette, the first she’d had in years, since her cancer had first been diagnosed and treated. Her hair was dark and thick, and she hadn’t bothered with a comb or a brush. She was crying out there, beside the forsythia, but even if she hadn’t been, I would have known. Certain t...hings need not be said, and there’s nothing, not a whispered prayer, not a sacrifice, not a payment of any price, that will change what’s about to happen. We had dinner that night in the dark, not out of choice but because a storm had come up. The wind knocked down the power lines all over Franconia and left a dimmer world, a shadowy place where a working flashlight seemed worth its weight in gold. We stuck candles into wine bottles and waited for Margot to come over with a pizza. “I got the last one before the oven went out.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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