I’m crouched on the wet back step, holding a mirror stolen from the middle one’s bedroom
It is Wednesday afternoon, and I am on the step just outside the open garden door. The weather has been cold and wet all day – rain is still dripping from the trees – but the sun has come out and the air is warming up.
Twenty minutes ago: it’s so dark that all the lights are still on in the kitchen, where the oldest one is working and the youngest is dicing onions, while they both listen in silence to an audiobook about the American civil war.
