I grew up in the deep south of the United States, and as such, I have a certain allegiance to Truman Capote. Here, in its entirety, is his short story, A Christmas Memory. Merry Christmas, Slopers.
Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago. Consider the kitchen of a spreading old house in a country town. A great black stove is its main feature; but there is also a big round table and a fireplace with two rocking chairs placed in front of it. Just today the fireplace commenced its seasonal roar. (more…)


