I begin with me in the third grade during a snow storm. I sat in the row closest to the window. The glass had frost around its edges and rattled with every gust of wind. Outside, the January landscape composed itself in white with a few dark oaks. Inside, Mother Herman explained math in a way that made multiplication more complicated than algebra. As I listened, I watch the snow. I wrote the letter K on my math worksheet. I knew if the Sister of Charity saw what I had written she would make me feel foolish.
Never-the-less, I imagined the letter K was a mountaineer on a ledge. Caught in a fierce blizzard, he walked like a blind man. standing straight, he reached one hand out in front of himself, Stretched one leg beneath his outstretched arm,
Never-the-less, I imagined the letter K was a mountaineer on a ledge. Caught in a fierce blizzard, he walked like a blind man. standing straight, he reached one hand out in front of himself, Stretched one leg beneath his outstretched arm,