"I do remember wooden table legs. The paint on them was peeling off, and I was standing on my toes, trying to

"I do remember wooden table legs. The paint on them was peeling off, and I was standing on my toes, trying to peek at what was on the table. I remember the wild rose by the window — it kept me up at night, scratching the glass with its gnarled branchlets. I do remember my mother's blue dress — it was a trifle battered, but it smelled of lavender." Octavia wrinkles her forehead. "I guess that's all. Not much there, right?"