My mother held my hand. Much like in my memory of my father doing so, I was filled with warmth, but when I looked up I could not make out her face. This moment was just too long ago . . . She may as well have been a ghost herself.
In the spotty distortion of old recollection, my mother walked me up some stairs to the entrance of a building. “Mommy, where are we?”
“This is my friend Jocelyn’s house. I need you to go inside and find her. Tell her your mother dropped you off and that I need her to look after you for a while.”
“When will you be back, Mommy?”
“Soon, sweetheart. I promise. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.” The woman knelt in front of me and stroked my hair. She put a note in my hand. “Give this to her. And, Frost, remember—you can be strong alone.”
She kissed my forehead. “Go
