But then James called and here they were at the kitchen table.I loved my sons. We had always been close, ever since they were boys rolling naked in th... mud we never kept anything from each other. But I couldn't talk to them about this. Something that had been racking my mind for the past year—something I couldn't shake or get away from: I was lonely and their father was going to leave me. I mean how do you bring that up? What do you tell them? Of course the questions would come and they would. Hard wood is not so easy to cut when you’re just a female, with no real strength.But the hardest part was the seat, or almost a seat. The centre of the seat was a large circular hole, very much like an old commode. But there was no bucket under it.The finished chair had been seeped in baby oil, rubbed in, and more added. Fingers would now glide along the surface easily. Perhaps too easily. Every day she had oiled the chair, its back, arm rests, legs, every where was oiled , then rubbed in, and. More

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