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Show A PROPER INTRODUCTION-31 of the way because I got tired. Winters, our excursion was tobogganing, except for the winter at the cottage when we skated on the lake for a magical hour in the snow and moonlight. The expanse seemed limitless, with no crowds, no silly music, no boundaries-only a great whiteness and Dad's reassuring form never too far away. Summer nights he sometimes lay with me on a blanket in the backyard, if we had a backyard, and he would listen to me prattle on about the wonder of it all, the stars and life and God and why was it we couldn't reach out and understand everything. I would squeal a l i t t le at the odd pain on not being big enough to grasp it all, and he seemed to know what I meant. But our times together never quite took; perhaps they were too seldom, too ambiguous. His favorite question to me was, "Do you know why I love you?" "No, why?" I'd say. "Because you're my only daughter." And I'd go away frowning, confused, and, while Mother was pregnant, worried that I'd have a sister. Most of the time, and more so as time went on, Dad sat in his easy chair drinking old-fashioneds or beer and sighing. I asked him once if was thinking too, like Mother, but he just looked sad and shook his head. After I complete my l t t le shrine on the marble-topped table, I help Laura organize dinner in the large kitchen. No kitchen had ever been quite right for Mother. Dad used to throw up his hands and say, "There's no pleasing her!" and Mother would confide, "I'm not so dumb. I could work in real estate. I should. I'm smart about houses, know what a woman really needs, and these architects ought to listen to a woman." She would begin to look translucent as if a brightness were trying to come through, as through the porcelain of the Dresden |