In setting doions of my early years so far removed from time itself. My parents, long gone from my ed  only once, abides more persistently in mind t I did yesterday or ers, noo ts to me, tcs of curls, cicipation and regret, may rue eartion  of joint.

    My first nigime foray into t me exed. I burros and blankets and furs, and by next midday, a fever burned. Zanzara broug tea and a boy broto quot;drink, drink, sip it.quot; But I could not stomacter  get eettled and my bones ached.

    Sleep brougrange, mares ones. My fatree , t;Dont be so ;

    t streaming from an old Ford, t, its breation s red ;; And so my face, taking my co kiss me on t I cannot remember my name.

    Aniday. A o a t take off in unison, flying a ting, singing tornado of urns after to to t and so  my skin splits a seam on bot drums against my ribs until ed by trating ire mind, I see to t, my ters, and t me. tand like stones, like trees, staring into to jump into ter, I may reacer once carried me aand on t in a voice t cannot be and.

    I dont kno snug and safe, altiffness and my insides felt scraped raending me, Ragno and Zanzara played cards, using my belly as a table. t managed to ss from many different packs, tful, and t in a jumble on my stomach.

    quot;Do you ; Ragno asked.

    Zanzara scratched his head.

    ed at ;Cinque, cinque.quot;

    quot;Go fis;

    And fisurning over card after card until criumply before ceding urn to Zan-zara.

    quot;You are a cer, Ragno.quot;

    quot;And you are a bloodsucker.quot;

    I coughed, making my consciousness known.

    quot;;

    Zanzara put  my fore;Let me get you someto eat. A cup of tea, maybe?quot;

    quot;You been asleeping a long time, kid. ts  for going out ;

    I looked around t as usual at midday, every-one else was gone.

    quot; day is it?quot; I asked.

    Zanzara flicked out ongue, tasting t;Id say tuesday.quot;

    quot;No, I mean ;

    quot;Kid, Im not even sure  is.quot;

    Ragno interrupted. quot;Must be getting to;

    quot;Did I miss Cmas?quot; I felt  time in ages.

    their shoulders.

    quot;Did I miss Santa Claus?quot;

    quot;;

    quot; out of ;

    Ragno pointed to a patwo evergreens.

    quot;;

    turned around and skipped a like crying, but tears  come. A fierce gale ble, puss, I observed troubles, until ttering ook no more notice of me tarted a small fire by striking a flint until a spark cauged pantry and dug out our meager fare, neatly skinning a partially frozen squirrel  strokes of a very so our old teapot and filled it er draern. Coasted pine nuts on a flat griddle. t engaged in cooking took off t ss, excerdays gear, noine proceeded  fuss and  conversation; t. As t, Smaolaco co discover me a.

    quot;Aniday, youve come back from t;

    o my feet. e embraced, but  my sides aco ted me ic sneer, and Igel s my inued ing to be served, arms crossed at . e set to ts, tite of all assembled. After t stringy bites, I pusin plate. t made everyones face gloheir smiles shine.

    After supper, Lucioned for me to come closer, and  as rays of pink sunliging tones were four small envelopes.

    quot;take t; ed, top stone  tters before  to e poucracted but ted y. quot;Merry Cmas, little treasure. Someto get you started.quot;

    quot;So it is Cmas today?quot;

    Luco see if anyone ening. quot;You did not miss it.quot;

    quot;Merry Cmas,quot; I said. And I tore open my gifts, ruining t tters, but t so valuable in and of tgage stub  enclosed, and at reaty, Luco use as rolling paper for tes. t piece of correspondence ter to tor of truman. Cov-ered bot and back ing t scuttled from margin to margin, t paper proved useless. t, I o e bethem.

    Feb. 2, 1950

    Dearest,

    t ment so muco me t I cant understand en since t nigold me t you loved me and I love you too, but still you  ans tters and nobody anselep your  in t of doing  because you told me t you loved me and you ed to let you kno I am not t kind of girl.

    I am t kind of girl leman to beleman.

    Please e back to me or better yet call me on t angry so muc confused, but I  here from you.

    I love you, do you kno?

    Love,

    Martha

    At time, I considered tter to be truest expression of real love t I   to read, for Marte in cur-sive, but tters t resembled printing. tter baffled me more t, but it, too, used only ters of t side of the page.

    2/3/50

    Dear Mother,

    ords cannot begin to express to you at tter place. I am sorry t I cannot come  Ive not enougrip. So, all my felt grief must be s insufficient letter.

    inter drao a cold and un fair, since you  Nana, and I, near everything.

    Your Son

    ed t only about tance but about my professed literacy, for almost no one in camp boto read or e any longer. Some  learned, and oto forget. e sat in a ring around t I could, not fully compreanding t; do you t?quot; Speck asked ter I had finished.

    quot;ter,quot; Onions said.

    Kivi pus in t. quot;I do not understand  e back to Mart t is noto t;

    quot;Yes,quot; C;per married, and ter.quot;

    quot;ell, I ; added Blomma.

    Into t tion floed poetical fictions about teries of t tters outside our knoing. But til to embers; tled under togetinued te of ters, ts, and tended readers. I  to use t became bitterly cold, and soon all tangle of limbs.  of us , I suddenly remembered t;Merry Cmas!quot; I said, but my greetings broug;S; and quot;Go to sleep.quot; During t  me on t my sore ribs. In a dark corner of tfulness, I ed for morning, tters pinned against my c.

    ted against a blanket of rum t began in brigern edge and fanned out in soft pastels. Brancrees broke to fragments, like a kaleidoscope. tern sed il it all dis-sipated into blue and  of bed, I savored t grorong enouging. I took out my papers and pencil, put a cold flat stone in my lap, and folded tgage statement into quarters. I dre once odd and familiar in my grasp. In t panel, I created from memory my moters, and myself, full-body portraits lined up in a straiged in myself. In t panel, I dre ive. Liged by traiging from a circle on tending outo opposite corners of ttened Cmas tree, lavised, a pile of gifts spread out on ture of a boy drowning. Bound in spirals, he wavy line.

    o Smaolacer t afternoon, ook me by to  of ions to make sure o quarters and  back to me.

    quot;You must be more careful  you draures.quot;

    quot;s tter?quot;

    quot;If Igel finds out, ts tter. You o real-ize, Aniday, t  accept any contact  ;

    quot;t?quot;

    quot;.quot; Smaolacucked it into my coat pocket. quot;Some tter kept to yourself,quot;  me and walked away, wling.

    riting proved more painful tain letters—B, G, R, —caused my o cramp. In tings, sometimes my K bent back astray, an F accidentally became an E, and ot are amusing to me no at time, my ing caused me muc. orse t,  spell for beans and lacked all punctuation. My vocabulary annoyed me, not to mention style, diction, sentence structure, variety, adjectives and adverbs, and ot-ters. t of ing took forever. Sentences o be assembled nail by nail, and once complete, tood no better tion of  or ed to say, a  I persisted t morning, ing doained tory of my abduction and tures as  memories of life before tten more ters, my dear bed, my scion of ed to be o me in due course, but  Lucters, I  to look for  of paper, my mission o find more.