Mama could have coffee on the stove and a cake in the oven as fast as most people could say, “best wishes.” And since she knew almost everyone in Haarlem, especially the poor, sick, and neglected, there was almost no day in the year that was not for somebody, as she would say with eyes shining, “a very special occasion!” And so we sat over our coffee, as one should on anniversaries, and looked back—back to the time when Mama was alive, and beyond.
