When I was a little girl I had mittens attached by a string going from one to the other through my jacket. That way my mittens didn’t get lost in the snow. The mittens were made of yarn and got wet quickly,and then I would slap my hands together. My sister and I only played together until I was nearly four, then we were at the cult. When I saw her again briefly months after we’d been separated, she asked what I was doing. I had been playing our favorite game all by myself which was taking care of our eleven children. I told her that I was trying to take care of the children by myself. She told me she was marching and sleeping on the ground and breaking ice to wash her face in the morning. Her hair was cut off. I still had mine, but I would have given up my hair, would have broken ice and slept on dirt to not find myself walking in the yard, drifting between snow banks, talking to eleven children, trying to take care of them, telling them that everything would be all right while my hands slowly turned blue.