![]() Just look at those critter tracks in the new snow.Mamma pointed out the window, then turned to face Lily, still not noticing me. She was talking quietly to Lily, her untied bathrobe hanging from her frail shoulders. Our mother was swathed all in white from head to foot and had somehow managed to pull herself up from her sickbed to don her best organdy Kapp, matted hair all strubblich beneath. I recall one of those frosty January days when I stepped into Mamma’s bedroom and saw her standing with eighteen-year-old Lily near the sunlit window. My youngest sister, Lily, has caused me no small amount of concern since our widowed mother succumbed to pneumonia last winter. Yet I’ve scarcely time to dwell on the past. ![]() I confess to missing her and Dat terribly as we continue life without them. ![]() Nothin’ helpful comes from pity, Mamma often said, expecting me and my siblings to be grateful and cheerful, no matter what came our way. ![]() TRUTH BE TOLD, I was taught never to feel sorry for myself. ![]()
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