I look for her in the living room. The Pendleton blanket is folded and laid neatly on the back of the overstuffed couch (my sister’s choice). Mother’s hand-crocheted throw rests gently on the seat of our childhood rocking chair (my choice). Dust motes swirl in the half-light of this cloudy November afternoon, whispering rumors of light snow mirroring their desultory dance. It’s plenty cold outside those triple-pane windows.  Continue reading →