I haven’t heard her cry since we were ten. I wonder if she knew I could hear her. I wonder if she cared. She hasn’t talked to me at all about how badly she misses her mother. I don’t exactly expect her to—we’ve never been the type to get too deep into feelings, being Acost...
It fell in fat, fluffy flakes, the sticky kind that quickly piled up enough to make snowmen and angels and ice treats drizzled with maple syrup. At first, it was fun. Emily and I played in the powder with Joanna and Charles while Ma, swollen in the belly but rosy in the cheeks, brewed a pot of ho...