30
Pitt
The heat from the kitchen along with the fire in the fireplace had gotten to me, and I needed to cool off. Putting a sweater on Karen, I took her out on the front porch with me to get some fresh air. The temperature was in the mid-sixties—too warm for the fireplace to be going—but Mom had insisted Dad build a fire for the holiday.
Sometime later that afternoon, some of our family would be arriving to spend Thanksgiving with us, and Mom was cooking her heart out in the kitchen.
I’d offered my help, but I still couldn’t stand for long periods of time, and the wheelchair got in her way. So, I helped by taking care of the baby and staying out of her way.
The sound of the screen squeaking open alerted my mother to the fact that someone was leaving the house. “Who’s going where?”
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