1 quotations found:

But gradually in her letters she tends to confuse me with her
other friend, the Buddy who died in the 1880s; more and more thirteenths are
not the only days she stays in bed: a morning arrives in November, a leafless
dirdless coiming of winter morning, when she cannot rouse herself to exclaim:
"Oh my, it's fruitcake weather!"
And when that happens, I know it. A message saying so merely confirms a piece
of news some secret vein had already received, severing from me an
irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite on a broken string.
That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December
morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like
hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.

Source: A Christmas Memory
Date: 2002