She looked cold in the lightweight jacket she often wore. I couldn’t help but reach out and brush the few flakes that had collected in her hair. She...looked up at me, stunned, as if she had forgotten what she was going to say. ‘Would you mind if I tell Aunt Bertha to send a letter to your address?’ Her eyes were wide with anticipation as if she expected me to refuse her request. Melted snow rolled between her eyes and dripped from her nose to her open mouth. She explained that Bertha’s last. With a soft smile, I assured her I would be right back. Minutes later, my living room table was a mess. Wash clothes, hot bowl of soapy water, coffee mugs, a first aid kit and of course an ice pack. While I cleaned her face and tended the wounds she related the evenings events. She spoke in an almost monotone voice. Recalling every movement, leaving nothing out. My mind wrestled with the facts as she spoke, putting bits of information together. When she finished, I explained that it appeared. More

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