There words were far too soft for my little ears, and the baby sitter scooped me up and ran from the room, lest I hear and understand.Later...Was it y...ars, later? Decades, maybe.There is no time when you're dead. Only now, forever...Another flash of memory.My mother, weeping at the kitchen sink, was holding a sheaf of medical papers in her hand. She stared at the papers as if they were a palpable enemy that she could rend, tear, or kill. Her tears were hard and angry – but soft, and almost. We went back to the see Luke Foster the next day. Shirley managed to be invited inside the house while I went to the workshop with Luke. We compared notes on the walk back to the apartment."The house is in shambles and that poor woman doesn't seem to know it's falling down around her," she decried."That's strange. The woodworking shop is full of equipment and Luke pointed out several pieces that are almost new. He's very proud of his shop." Is he going to build the tables?" Yes, but it'll be a. More

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