Life tern. My fatirred from our sleep, and t golden  tove, stirring oatmeal or frying breakfast in a pan; tceady feet. ture  aside ure iges remained. An old barn, red paint souring to a dark mauve, no-rail fence t fronted ty  stick by stick. t angle of brambles t Dad only boto mo to abandon farming in tant neigeads and acreage to developers. But ill a quiet, lonesome place.

    trick of groo remember to groal part of becoming tention to every detail of  no amount of preparation for t for ts family ory—memories of bygone birties and otimacies—t one must pretend to remember. ory is easy enougo fake; stick around anyone long enougco any plot. But ots and flaity. For-tunately  of farmland out in try.

    Near my first Cmas, o tairs and I idled by t t door. On tood a man  cigar mixing ly medicinal aroma of  once, alt seen him before.

    quot;; ;As I live and breat;

    I stood fixed to t clue as to ly at t, trode past me into tively up tairs. quot;Is your mot?quot;

    o visit in t occasion-ally tes, driving out from too the house.

    ossed  on turned to face me again. quot; been,  look like youve gro;

    I stared at tranger and did not knoo say.

    quot;Run up tairs and tell your mama Im . Go on no;

    quot;;

    quot;;

    quot;But I dont ;

    t;Are you okay, ;  doo look me in t;No actually your uncle, son, but your mamas oldest friend. A friend of t say.quot;

    My motair sranger, so to embrace ook advantage of to slip away.