December 23, 2018:

Two old ladies, holding hands.

Country ladies, homemade dresses, sensible shoes. Gray hair pinned back, wirerims, fingers entwined beneath the Big Sky.

One is well-known to me. I carry her DNA. The other could be a sister, they look so much alike.

Unlikely. Wrong countryside, wrong state. More likely: the mother of her son's wife.

Turner, Montana, Summer '69.