“It was going to take three days to get everything taken care of, three days in Memory, Minnesota, where Skoro had lived his life and where he wanted to be buried. We left Rochester in midafternoon, drove northeast to Wabasha at the southern tip of Lake Pepin. Lake Pepin is actually a wide spot in the Mississippi, a lake twenty miles long and three miles wide. We followed the shore north. In that part of southeastern Minnesota the river bluffs rise so high you’d almost think you were in the moun...tains. The road twisted in and out of the narrow valleys, sometimes climbing to the top of the bluffs, then snaking back down to follow the riverbank. Mom drove with her chin pushed forward over the wheel. “I hate these roads,” she said. We pulled into Memory at four that afternoon. A sign at the edge of town read: WELCOME TOMEMORYPOP. 40 I said, “I suppose now they’ll have to make it thirty-nine.” “I suppose they will,” she said dully. After what had happened back in Rochester it had taken awhile for her to calm down, but she seemed to be fine now.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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