Maya tilted her head. “Then what do they listen to?”
Her seven-year-old daughter, Maya, tugged her sleeve. “What’s wrong, Mama?” months for the seasons
According to the glossy wall calendar in her kitchen, winter began on December 21st. But Lena had lived in Michigan her whole life, and she knew better. Winter started the moment the last October pumpkin rotted on the porch. By November 15th, the air already had teeth. Maya tilted her head
Lena thought about it. She thought about April, which sometimes arrived like a lamb and sometimes like a lion. She thought about September, which could be a second summer or a first winter. She thought about March, the great liar, offering a warm day just to snatch it back with ice. But Lena had lived in Michigan her whole
“It does,” Lena said. “And the calendar says it’s still autumn. But the wind doesn’t care about December 21st. The wind knows.”
