“The back door, Andrew, the back door!”
As soon as Annie Kate said this, it slammed shut. Why didn’t anyone in her household ever learn, if the front door was open, they couldn’t leave the back door open at the same time? A far too strong wind swept through Old City Philadelphia springtimes and created a vacuum effect in the house if they kept doors and windows open on both ends.
Alas, the perils of having money, how little she knew of it! She’d barely eaten enough food in their Trim hovel. They might’ve had a view of Tara Hill and the River Boyne from their sloping terrace, but they went to sleep hungry every night. Cabbage and beets stewed in brown vinegar didn’t do much for satisfying hungry appetites. It just put everone in a bad mood and made their eye sockets pop out.
She put memories of Ireland behind her – until the next time she remembered. Annie Kate looked at the kitchen’s back door. No children injured and no dogs killed as it slammed. Thank the Lord. She might have nine children between the ages of one and sixteen, but that didn’t mean each one wasn’t as precious as an only child. Now if they could just get used to all this wind in the city …
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