Tomorrow will mark a year since I had my stroke. It's an occasion that, according to my daughter, Ginny, I should view as important. But I've spent enough time staring at death; I don't want to think ... [+]
I don't recommend it. You might wind up like me, with spiders on your lips, crawling out like words. I never meant to offend. I just never understood how the other one, my sister, got everyone to smile at her. She was nothing to look at. I stood her up side by side with me, our faces next to each other in the one small mirror. Plain and brown-haired, oh! The freckles! Yet, the very birds would come down to take crumbs from her hand. I could not understand it. When she came back from winter's house, rubies falling from her mouth and telling that tale, I thought, At last. Here is something I can