“There have been moments when I did nothing but inspect Goblin, the better to know how I myself looked, and when some alteration came in my appearance, such as the trimming of my hair, Goblin would clench his fists, make ugly faces and stomp his noiseless foot. For that reason I often wore my hair bushy. And as the years passed Goblin took an interest in our clothes, and sometimes threw down on the floor the pair of overalls he wanted me to wear, and the shirt as well.

“But I’m plunging too fast into the condition of things, and not telling memories as they are lodged.

“My first distinct memory is a third birthday party in the kitchen, with my grandma Sweetheart and Jasmine and her sister, Lolly, and their mother, Little Ida, and her mother, Big Ramona—and all of them on high stools or chairs at the white-enameled kitchen table, gazing down at me as I sat at my child’s table, with Goblin right beside me, talking away with Goblin and telling him how to pick up his fork the way I’d been taught to do and eat his cake.

“He had his own little chair to the left of me and a place set for him, and milk and cake, the same as me. And at one point he grabbed my left hand—I’m left-handed and he’s right-handed—and he made me smear my cake all over my plate.

“I started crying because I’d never known him to be so strong—he had truly made my hand move, though not perhaps as he wanted it to—and I didn’t want my cake smeared, I wanted to eat it, and right away the kitchen was in a flying commotion, with everybody jumping up from the stools and Sweetheart trying to wipe my tears and at the same time tell me that I was ‘making a mess.’

“Goblin was as solid as I was, both of us in navy blue sailor suits for the occasion, and I had some vague sense even then that he was at his strongest because of the heavy rain that was falling outside.

“I loved the kitchen on those rainy days, loved to stand at the back screen door and watch the rain come down in sheets, with the kitchen all warm and full of bright electric light behind me, the radio singing oldies, or Pops playing the harmonica, and all those beloved adults, and the smell of cooking from the stove.

“But let me return to my third birthday party.

“Now Goblin had ruined it and I was sobbing. And he, the little idiot, after crossing his eyes and rocking his head from side to side, took his two first fingers and stretched his mouth on both sides wide as he could, which made me scream.