One Scrap of Paper from Oak Creek Hospital Rewrote Thirty-Four Years of What My Family Remembered

“Arlene came by the porch while you were at the bank,” Claire said.

“She asked whether you wanted the original microfiche copies from entry 114.”

“Tell her to keep them locked up in the county vault,” I said.

“We have the certified court order now.”

Claire nodded once and took a small bite of apple.

“Ninety-two dollars in filing fees and six weeks of cold coffee,” she said, a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.

“I would have paid ten times that thirty years ago.”