If you have been reading my posts, you know most of my story. You know that during the three weeks surrounding Easter of 1981, I went from being a a wife with a husband and a young teenage daughter and living a small-town middle-class life to being a single mom living on the edge of poverty. You also know why this happened: I caught my former husband in the act of using our daughter for his own selfish sexual and self-satisfying purposes, and I reported him to the local police. Did you ever think that one phone call could bring about such a dramatic change? Believe me, in my case, it did! And I’m still reeling thirty-three years later! No doubt, my daughter is feeling the effects of my phone call, also, but I can only speak for my own response with any certainty. And sometimes I’m not even certain of own feelings.
By the end of the winter the bird had found and given away so many crumbs of bread that they would have equaled in weight the loaf upon which little Inger had stepped to keep her fine shoes from being soiled; and when it had found and given away the last crumb, the gray wings of the bird suddenly became white and expanded.
"Look, there flies a sea swallow over the sea!" the children said as they saw the white bird. Now it seemed to dip into the water; now it rose into the bright sunshine; it gleamed in the air; it was not possible to see what became of it; they said that it flew straight into the sun.