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Show 4-6 behind her. He was holding her hair in both of his hands and as I watched he let it fall through his fingers onto Mother's white nightgown. They both were so quiet that I was afraid they would hear me breathe. I tiptoed back to bed. I had hair like Mother's and she loved to fix mine to match hers. I wanted to cut it off but I compromised with braids. I thought my mother completely beautiful. She was taller than most women, almost as tall as Father. She loved big hats and wide skirts that moved a certain way when she walked. We walked a great deal, as she believed in exercise for all of us. So every evening, after dinner, she, Fidelio and I would walk to the park and back, even in cold and rain. Suffering, she maintained, strengthened us all. Such was the life we had made while Father was gone. When he returned, we gladly took up the old one, one where the three of us were a whole, and soon it was as if he had never been away. |