Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

The linoleum under the kitchen table was always the coldest spot in the house, a gray pattern of squares that stayed freezing until noon. My bare feet were numb again, a dull wooden sensation that had started back in September.

I reached for the blue ceramic teacup on the counter, the one with the hand-painted yellow primroses near the rim. My toes continue reading …