I sit on the faded woden dock reaching over Mascoma lake, I feel my cheeks getting flushed as the late April wind blows across the water. As the deep orange sets behind the trees, and a shade of blue violet sets in, I start to replay this day from ten years ago. I fix my eyes in the distance and it all comes back. It was the end of April when we got the call. I was sitting on the couch waiting for the school bus. The phone rang, my father was in the living room holding my sleeping newborn sister. My mom answered the phone. I couldn't tell what was going on or the tone of the conversation. My mom's face changed, drained of color. I sat on the couch with my backpack, shoes, and rain coat on. My father was repeatedly telling me to get my feet off the couch. Oblivious to what was coming. She looked at my father, as she mumbled into the phone. There was a weird vibe in the house now. Everything seemed normal, whatever complication that was going on was just a typical day to day dilemma.
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