We are on a two-lane road. No one is around us. It’s green. The kind of green that is so pure and deep that it doesn’t seem real. There are hills everywhere, and empty pastures and fields. There are also volcanoes in every direction.
Dad was never anywhere near the fighting. In one of his early letters from Africa he reassures his mother that he is over 1,000 miles from the fighting front. But war has a way of finding people who think they are safe.
In many ways, my bookmarks are like my Christmas ornaments, each telling a chapter of my life. But they are much easier to store and can be used all year.
One of the saddest times of my life was the month Tummywumps, my ginger tabby, went missing. I’d left a window open overnight, and while I dozed, she sliced a hole in the screen and stole away like a jewel thief.
For years to come, I will lie in bed and ask myself in the dark: How did I know? How can I trust myself to know again, if ever again I am called to know?
The typewriter is a musical instrument, a work of art — oh, and a simple tool for changing the world.
