“Let them move quickly,” I said.

“I’ve got the county timestamp on paper.”

I lifted the plastic bin and tipped the rest of the old holiday notes straight into the fire.

Glittery envelopes and printed family letters curled into thin black edges against the orange grate.

Black ash from the old family Christmas cards drifted over the snow around the burn barrel.

Five days went by before the first real wave hit us in public.

On Monday morning at eight o’clock, I walked Lucy into the lobby of Oak Ridge Elementary.