I want to be extremely precise about that, because I have spent sixteen years being precise about it for other people.

By the fifteenth of October I could see it.

A small sound.

A face.

My sister’s hand adjusting the fleece.

I could see it the way you see any memory, which is to say not very clearly and with complete conviction.

It was not there on the eleventh.

I know that because I wrote down that it was not.