CHAPTER 42
The snowfall’s turning into a true blizzard by the time I reach home. After leaving church I walked the whole way back in the gray, gloomy weather. Justin would worry about me if he knew. I should tell him the flashbacks are getting worse.
He’s the only one who would understand.
Once inside the entryway of my mom’s house, I’m hit by a wall of memories that rush me at once, each one vying for my focus and attention. Like the jade-colored ceramic jug that stands a yard high in the front entryway. Last year when I came to visit, Mom still hadn’t removed Daddy’s cane, but now it’s gone and all that’s left is a little umbrella that I’m sure never sees a drop of rainfall. Mom hates the rain and would rather hole up in the house for three or four days at a time than run errands in a
