Those long afternoons we trudged, and: The boy who arrived, and: Turquoise plates extremely rare, as the orange footed

Those long afternoons we trudged

through the North Woods.Some days it was insufferable,the cold & still we traveled throughthe abyss where the Black Cherry, Pin Oak,& Red Maple were stripped of their clothes& the wind slapped our faces, the furiesblotting our eyes, no foreseeablepath in the snow & still we made the journey.Sometimes we stumbled upon morethan we wanted (how to explain a bodywith a blanket over a subway grate for warmthor the babble of the mind's asylum, those decoratedwith gold of the privileged, those without shoes). Stillit was like an accident of joy, like a chorus gathering,like a gift from a mysterious god,it was like the unknown whisper of trees in the park'sforest. It was the shadowlife I feared.

The boy who arrived

to cut the grass,smelled carbon monoxide& opened the garage door.The police officer the boy called afterhe found her slumpedinside the car,broke inside the houseto find her mother asleepwithout the knowledgethat her life as she knew itwas already forever altered.The mother whose loss is unrecoverable.The two friends she partied with that night—one of whichknew her since preschool at Montessori,their mothers (mine & hers) became close friends.There is that mother.The sister in New York, the sister in Californiathe sister who is three months pregnant,the father no one knows how to find,the estranged stepbrother & sister,the great-aunt who loved her like a granddaughter,whose walls hold her finger paintings,teachers, classmates, principals,therapist whose card was found in her wallet,the boy for whom she thought was worth her life . . .The high school girl writing a paper on History of a Suicide.

Turquoise plates extremely rare, as the orange footed

Fiesta bowl that decorated our table & held the sour

green apples she adored, books, clothes, bronze baby shoes,portraits & paintings, images & memories alive through objects

stripped from the house in which they once resided & allbut a few precious items sold to a liquidator. I remember her glee,

a hero for what no mother should bear, more permanentthan any object, at the flea markets in Chardon

where we trolled for treasured pieces of Fiestawareonce we found her favorite, though she did not like to choose—

(which one died, she said, confused, pointing to the photosof her four daughters above her bed once she moved

into the care home's prelude for the soon-to-be-dead)—a vintage ivorypitcher that now most likely resides in a stranger's abode.