ing on me. But then I thought that if she was really spy-11
ing, she wouldn’t be advertising with an ember. It was 12
almost as amazing as a firefly — that old woman sitting 13
out on her porch all night long, smoking one cigarette af-14
ter another, waiting for either a miracle or a heart attack.
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The next day was Sunday. I’d fallen asleep on the sofa in 16
my father’s library. After three hours’ sleep I was out in 17
the front yard with a scythe.
18
That was a gas.
19
Christ’s Hope Church was just three blocks up from 20
my house and many a churchgoer had to drive past my 21
place. Almost everyone slowed to see me stripped to the 22
waist, cutting down the dead weeds and grasses that had 23
grown wild for years.
24
Peaches and Floyd drove by. They came to a virtual stop 25
in order to gawk. I smiled at them and waved. Peaches 26
said something to her husband and they sped off to God.
27 S
28 R
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That was one of the hardest days I ever put in. Twelve C 14
thirty-nine-gallon plastic bags of trash and dead weeds. I 15
only had two empty bags left. In the afternoon I broke my 16
fast with instant coffee, baked beans, and quick-cooking 17
polenta. I carried the meal on a tray up to the third floor, 18
to my mother’s sewing room, which was a small chamber 19
off her bedroom. There she had a treadle-powered sewing 20
machine and a small table meant for piecework.
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I put my tray on the table and stared out the window 22
