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"
Yes
’
m
.
"
"
And
you
don
’
t
yell
when
your
body
makes
itself
over
every
seven
years
or
so
,
old
cells
dead
and
new
ones
added
to
your
fingers
and
your
heart
.
You
don
’
t
mind
that
,
do
you
?
"
"
No
’
m
.
"
"
Well
,
consider
then
,
boy
.
Any
man
saves
fingernail
clippings
is
a
fool
.
You
ever
see
a
snake
bother
to
keep
his
peeled
skin
?
That
’
s
about
all
you
got
here
today
in
this
bed
is
fingernails
and
snake
skin
.
One
good
breath
would
send
me
up
in
flakes
.
Important
thing
is
not
the
me
that
’
s
lying
here
,
but
the
me
that
’
s
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
looking
back
at
me
,
and
the
me
that
’
s
downstairs
cooking
supper
,
or
out
in
the
garage
under
the
car
,
or
in
the
library
reading
.
All
the
new
parts
,
they
count
.
I
’
m
not
really
dying
today
.
No
person
ever
died
that
had
a
family
.
I
’
ll
be
around
a
long
time
.
A
thousand
years
from
now
a
whole
township
of
my
offspring
will
be
biting
sour
apples
in
the
gumwood
shade
.
That
’
s
my
answer
to
anyone
asks
big
questions
!
Quick
now
,
send
in
the
rest
!
"
At
last
the
entire
family
stood
,
like
people
seeing
someone
off
at
the
rail
station
,
waiting
in
the
room
.
"
Well
,
"
said
Great
-
grandma
,
"
there
I
am
.
I
’
m
not
humble
,
so
it
’
s
nice
seeing
you
standing
around
my
bed
.
Now
next
week
there
’
s
late
gardening
and
closet
-
cleaning
and
clothes
-
buying
for
the
children
to
do
.
And
since
that
part
of
me
which
is
called
,
for
convenience
,
Great
-
grandma
,
won
’
t
be
here
to
step
it
along
,
those
other
parts
of
me
called
Uncle
Bert
and
Leo
and
Tom
and
Douglas
,
and
all
the
other
names
,
will
have
to
take
over
,
each
to
his
own
.
"
"
Yes
,
Grandma
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
want
any
Halloween
parties
here
tomorrow
.
Don
’
t
want
anyone
saying
anything
sweet
about
me
;
I
said
it
all
in
my
time
and
my
pride
.
I
’
ve
tasted
every
victual
and
danced
every
dance
;
now
there
’
s
one
last
tart
I
haven
’
t
bit
on
,
one
tune
I
haven
’
t
whistled
.
But
I
’
m
not
afraid
.
I
’
m
truly
curious
.
Death
won
’
t
get
a
crumb
by
my
mouth
I
won
’
t
keep
and
savor
.
So
don
’
t
you
worry
over
me
.
Now
,
all
of
you
go
,
and
let
me
find
my
sleep
.
.
.
"
Somewhere
a
door
closed
quietly
.
"
That
’
s
better
.
"
Alone
she
snuggled
luxuriously
down
through
the
warm
snowbank
of
linen
and
wool
,
sheet
and
cover
,
and
the
colors
of
the
patchwork
quilt
were
bright
as
the
circus
banners
of
old
time
.
Lying
there
,
she
felt
as
small
and
secret
as
on
those
mornings
eighty
-
some
-
odd
years
ago
when
,
wakening
,
she
comforted
her
tender
bones
in
bed
.
