cuts of beef because I planned to prepare dinner for everyone.
My mother, Margaret, had been staying with us for three months, ever since my father passed away and she sold the small suburban house where they had spent decades building their life together.
The second I unlocked the front door, I heard a sharp, painful sound echo through the hallway.
Then another strike followed almost immediately.
My mother stumbled backward into the wooden console table near the entrance.
A small blue ceramic vase shook at the edge, fell onto
