I Was Kind Of An Outsider Growing

My Daughter, Grace, Was Not Killed By A Gun. She Died Suddenly At Age 5 From A Virulent Form Of Strep. As I Stood Stunned In A Church At Her Memorial, One Of The Hardest Things I Heard Someone Say Was, 'i'm Going To Go Home And Hug My Child A Little Tighter.' 'well, Good For You,' I Thought. 'i'm Going To Go Home And Scream.'

When I Was Seven Years Old, I Fell In Love With A Series Published By Bobbs-merrill Called 'the Childhood Of Famous Americans.' In It, Historical Figures Like Clara Barton, Nancy Hanks, Elias Howe, Patrick Henry, And Dozens More Came To Life For Me As Children.

I Was A Daughterless Mother. I Had Nowhere To Put The Things A Mother Places On Her Daughter. The Nail Polish I Used To Paint Our Toenails Hardened. Our Favorite Videos Gathered Dust. Her Small Apron Was In A Box In The Attic. Her Shoes - The Sparkly Ones, The Leopard Rain Boots, The Ballet Slippers - Stood In A Corner.

In Orphan Train, Christina Baker Kline Seamlessly Knits Together The Past And Present Of Two Women, One Young And One Old. Kline Reminds Us That We Never Really Lose Anyone Or Anything Or – Perhaps Most Importantly – Ourselves.

I Learned To Knit In 2002, Six Months After My 5-year-old Daughter, Grace, Died Suddenly From A Virulent Form Of Strep. I Was Unable To Read Or Write, And Friends Suggested I Take Up Knitting; Almost Immediately I Fell Under Its Spell.