Fourteen
NOW, MY LOVE FOR ANNA Luckgold knows no bounds. She’s been more of a Mom to me over the years than my own Mom. Certainly, conversations with her are a lot less painful. She’s supported Helen and me every step of the way, probably even in ways I’ll never know. She’s also not afraid to tell me when I’m wrong or just acting like an ass. There have been several occasions since I came to Saint Clare’s when I’ve needed that. So, I have a very hard time saying no to her.
Which is why I’m standing in her dusty, smelly, stuffy, and cobwebby—is that a real word?—attic on Tuesday afternoon in search of an old trunk.
Once again, I’m struck by how different Anna is from my own Mom. I know I shouldn’t compare them, but it’s hard not to when the differences are so starke. Right now, I’m compa
