Since she worked so late at the factory, I wasn’t used to Ma waking before me, but from the sounds and smells emerging from the kitchen I could tell she’d already been up for a good long while. In the kitchen I found her turning chicken in the skillet. Potatoes for a salad boiled on the stove, and a sheet of cookies sat on the counter waiting to go into the oven. Ma kissed my forehead and retrieved two slices of toast from the oven, which she quickly replaced with the cookie sheet. Sitting me at the table with my toast and a jar of strawberry jam, she returned to her cooking. Before we left for the celebration at the fairgrounds, the chicken and potato salad had been tucked into a wicker basket and placed in the refrigerator, where it would wait until early evening, accompanying us to the nighttime celebration on the southern edge of Kramer Lake. The fireworks had been cancelled this year, but it was for the war effort so nobody made a fuss, and it was still nice to see so many people.
