Ruth’s last ferry ride
A few days later, Deana and I were at her kitchen table, and Ruth was on the counter in a small brown paper sack. “She would have preferred a Bloomingdale’s bag, ” Deana said. I dutifully recorded the events of Ruth’s life for the obituary, but I knew the real story of her life was not in the dates and names, it was the one that linked a mother’s soul with her daughter’s spirit.