Family Anatomy: Cousin Ruth

The fire at my grandparents’ home changed the dynamics of everything. Rooms were rearranged to accommodate Grandpa Wilson, plans diverted, schedules rescheduled. And with the arrival of Cousin Ruth, the upheaval was a little off-putting. I was shuffled to the smallest room in the house, a cramped storage room in the back that was reconfigured with a bed and a night table and little else. It was comfortable, but always dark as there were no windows. There was a small plywood shelf above my bed where I kept a few comic books and a flashlight. But otherwise, it still smelled like a storage room, of mold-stained cardboard boxes and old trampled-upon sawdust. Continue reading Family Anatomy: Cousin Ruth