yesterday, i braid nancy's hair and ask her questions. there is a bank of her life that needs to be stored some place, the small details of days as they pass. she wore a yellow taffeta dress to the prom, her date was jim mcconnell. she didn't like to study. michael was a quiet baby. she remembers the names of movie stars from the nineteen fifties as we play trivial pursuit and smiles a small smile when she wins. and then, later on, mike tells stories from a different part of her life and we cry at the dinner table. me on one side, diane on the other. and she must be so filled with regret.