Denmark, 1906
The fire was out. I wanted to remain in bed but I’d always been the one to get up to stoke it, so I rolled from under the weight of bedding, then prodded at embers still winking in the ash, sprinkled wood shavings and blew them into licks of flame before I added more kindling. My sister, Johanna, shifted in her sleep, moaned a long, slow sigh. “Poor darling, cozied while I rebuild the fire.” She kept sleeping.
I was outside before most of the household was awake. I liked it that way. The dim and cold lent an edge to everything, made it otherworldly. In an hour, sunlight would blur the horizon, the air would warm and it would be just another day. I knew the farmhands were still eating breakfast, and by the time they came to feed and water the animals, I had already slipped
