“She had been angry the day she came down with the flu and had a temperature of 103° and had to miss the special Children’s Concert that the Boston Symphony was doing, and her parents gave the tickets to the terrible Truesdales who lived in the upstairs apartment.”
“Jamie was quiet for a minute, then he said, ‘We probably have no conscience. I think we ought to be homesick. Do you think Mom and Dad raised us wrong? They’re not very mean, you know; don’t you think that should make us miss them?’ ”
“I miss one angel face in the little world of sisters- dear Mary- sainted Mary- Remember lonely one- tho, she comes not to us, we shall return to her!”
“It seemed odd to become as fond of anybody in a short time as Santa had of Bill. He saw them onto the bus for King’s Cross, and as the bus moved off she had a lump in her throat as if she were saying good-bye to an old friend.”
But I’ve been as happy musing by myself among those stones, under that old church: lying, through the long June evenings, on the green mound of her mother’s grave, and wishing—yearning for the time when I might lie beneath it.