Eleonoora’s mother wanted to throw one last party for her friends. The apartment on Sammonkatu smelled too much of illness, so they decided to move the party to Eleonoora’s garden. Besides, Mom said, what better place for the perfect terminal party than under the apple blossoms? Mom and Dad had come well before the guests arrived; Mom wanted to poke her fingers in the dirt one more time, insisted they let her plant the morning glory seedlings, a variety called Thread of Life. Now the threads of life poked drooping out of the earth under the window, in shock from the light, sucking up moisture from the mulch. Tomorrow they would perk up, and in a few weeks, when the apple blossoms had fallen from the trees, they would reach as far as the windowsill. The two of them were in the kitchen making salad. Mom had changed into bright red high-heeled shoes and was contentedly tearing lettuce leaves into a bowl. “A woman needs two things in life: a sense of humor and a pair of red high heels,”
