At first I didn't know what she meant. Then, puzzled, I described the
man of the vision. I could see him very clearly. Sandy hair thinning
over a high forehead. Soft gray eyes mirroring a compassionate
intelligence. A thin, high-bridged nose. A wide, responsive mouth,
curving slightly in a pensive smile. Stooped shoulders that made him
look slighter and shorter than he was, though my impression was that he
was taller than average.
It was only when the portrait was complete that I realized that,
except for the bent shoulders and the thinning hair, I had been
describing myself.
My mother looked away, covering her face with her hands. I saw her
shoulders quiver. A suspicion nibbled at the fringe of my mind,
rejected instantly with a spasm of horror.
"Mom! What is it? Who was he?"