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Rosie thought about father—a repressed anxiety that never disappeared altogether and lingered as a dark shadow behind a light and joyful life, like the pale backdrop to a colorful stage—but she did…
It was close to Passover. In the house, Passover was already present. But Father was not in a holiday mood. He looked at nobody and even his appearance changed. A yellow cast covered his face.
He had…
He carried his camera and case into the dining room, and as he stood there for a moment, peering at the table through the twilight haze in the room, he breathed deeply of the familiar holiday odors…
Grandfather scurries from cupboard to cupboard in his black coat; he looks in every corner, checking for bread crumbs in my treasure drawer, under my crystals and shells. He rummages through…