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Do You Hear Me, Mr. Lincoln? — Judith Caseley
A teen finds solace in Abraham Lincoln's words and wisdom
People don't just up and die in the middle of the kitchen . . . in the middle of lunch . . . in the middle of their lives, do they? Sierra's father does, and suddenly life is blurred and unreal. No amount of sympathy from Aunt Rose, Tia Claudia, or the rest of Sierra's well-meaning Jewish-Cuban extended family can bring the focus back.
But there is the junk-shop portrait of Abraham Lincoln--Sierra's historical idol--that had been one of Papa's "finds." With Lincoln's kind eyes and craggy, melancholy face staring out from the frame, it's as if he is Sierra's confidant, listening to what she longs to say so she can let Papa go . . . and let her family back in.
People don't just up and die in the middle of the kitchen . . . in the middle of lunch . . . in the middle of their lives, do they? Sierra's father does, and suddenly life is blurred and unreal. No amount of sympathy from Aunt Rose, Tia Claudia, or the rest of Sierra's well-meaning Jewish-Cuban extended family can bring the focus back.
But there is the junk-shop portrait of Abraham Lincoln--Sierra's historical idol--that had been one of Papa's "finds." With Lincoln's kind eyes and craggy, melancholy face staring out from the frame, it's as if he is Sierra's confidant, listening to what she longs to say so she can let Papa go . . . and let her family back in.
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