Granny loved dolls and she had several porcelain girls, baby faced purity wrapped in Victorian silks and secrets. In my room at Granny’s house there was a four-poster single bed and a rocking cradle I had used once as a baby. There was also a closet and a chair, and on the chair sat one of her treasured dolls. Sometimes she was my doll, but she lived at Granny’s house in the guest/my bedroom. I remember the doll had strawberry blond curls and green glass eyes, the kind that closed long lashes when put to sleep.

Olga & Yvonne Charpentier, 1912

Writing my dissertation doesn’t feel like peace-making, but it is exactly that. I pour a cup of chamomile tea, I open the curtains to let in the light, I tell my dog to be quiet. I write. I hope we don’t die tonight.

Grandfather Frog, a character in Thornton Burgess’ “Old Mother West Wind” stories.