KATE felt, when she jumped from sleep at the alarm clock's ringing, that the tide had turned, that life was coming back to her. The air brought a smell of spring, of manure, wet earth, through the open window. It had rained in the night, but the sun was shining now. Each bud on the maple trees looked as if water was welling from it, wet branches were netted against a robin's-egg-blue sky. She loved the cold water she dashed on her face, the smell of coffee coming up the stairs; she whistled fuzzily, with much breath and little sound, as she pulled on her stockings.
After that night when she had realized she was not first in the world to anyone, the night she had opened her hands and let her darling go, she thought everything had left her. She helped Joe pack; she got ready for Aunt Sarah and Carrie; she soothed disapproving Effa. Heavy with lassitude, she dragged through days full of duties—empty days
And to-day life was coming back to her, flooding her, lifting her up.
"5 l chops
amonnia ammonia amonia
½ pk spin
pk mac
5 gran sug"
