Doors

Doors

Doors

Every evening Great-Granma locked the front door according to her own elaborate ritual, as if she believed she could protect us from uninvited guests, the same as the ones who had called at her home in 1937, taking her husband away with them forever. She never went back to that story, though Aba regularly reminded us of it: “That evening they rang the doorbell. Papa said it was a mistake and he’d be right back, kissed me good-bye, and left with the strangers. I never saw him again.”