kitchen of Boorman House, standing on a chair made me too tall, but it was better than not being able to reach the sink. Steam in the air, my arms red up to the elbows. Sometimes I washed and someone else would dry but mostly I did it all myself, I volunteered. After dinner everyone would go elsewhere, hiding in their own corners of the big old dark house. I stayed in the kitchen, the little window over the sink showing me the mulberry tree out back, the berries sweetening the air even inside the house.