Life with the Day family acquired a reassuring pattern. My father would leave for work before any of us stirred from our sleep, and that golden waking hour between his departure and my march to school was a -fort. My mother at the stove, stirring oatmeal breakfast in a pan; the twins expl the kit on unsteady feet. The picture windows framed a away the outside world. The Days home had long ago been a work-ing farm, and though agriculture had been abandoned, vestiges remained. An old barn, red paint s to a dark mauve, now served as a garage. The split-rail fehat frohe property was falling apart stick by stick. The field, an acre or so that had flushed green with , lay fallow, a tangle of brambles that Dad only bothered to mow once each October. The Days were the first to abandon farming in the area, and their distant neighbors joihem over the years, selling off homesteads and acreage to developers. But when I was a child, it was still a quiet, lonesome p……（内容加载失败！）
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