Julie’s face hardens to match her thoughts. Sid might be her only son, but he has no right to tell her what to do. The wooden cremation container, now emptied of her late husband’s ashes, makes a great footstool. Haven’t other lodge residents said how …
This morning, their routine of rising and preparing for the day in silence hurts her and presses as though her soul has changed its mind and now wants something else.
Go and get the mail, I am reminded. It’s nothing more than what he tells me every day, his words are not meant to annoy, but they do. I bundle up to go outside, angry at this chore but outside I suddenly realize spring seems …
