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Mom seemed upset when she came home to find the door to the garage open.
She closed the door immediately and said something about the furnace
having to work extra hard. We live in Wisconsin where it is cold in the
winter.
It wasn't until later that Mom discovered the clean roasting pan. Mom
was quiet. She felt both Quinton's and my stomachs, and watched us carefully.
We only got a small meal that evening. I didn't mind. I still had happy
memories of the ham and a slightly sore stomach.
Mom kept the door to the garage locked for the rest of the week. The
ham bone remained buried in the peat moss. I wasn't sure I'd ever be
able to get it out.
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