In a clandestine operation my wife had left me and took everything but my beloved stereo system in the lounge room (including 500 or so records and a CD collection that was rapidly catching up) and, in the spare room, a single bed.
It was a tiny rose the colour of musk sticks and fairy floss and just blown, on the climber that never flowered after that one winter when we cut it right back.
Eric Roe Rural Northwest Ohio, 1979 The drive took a long time. If my mom and stepdad talked at all, their voices were low and their words few. We arrived at a house surrounded by farmland shrouded in darkness.