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Leo eats the dirty, sugary particles greedily and cries for er and put it in hisestion in his lungs or feeling the heat in his forehead

In a quiet voice, I tell them stories of their father and me, of a fairy-tale love that see that clackety trip, when I a ill see Papa, I begin to call ht and the Neva River takes on ical powers

The train trip see rattled around for sothat keeps us all sane Without it, I think Iand never stop

Finally, we reach the edge of Lake Ladoga There is ice as far as I can see; there is alh a cleanand one through the fog of my own breath

We are at the start of the ice road

Twenty-five

The ar for a The road is here now, and everyone is calling it the road of life Soon, they say, transports of food will rurad Up until now, those sa black water below And, of course, the Germans bomb it constantly

I checkis in place, just as it e left Leningrad Leo and Anya are wrapped in newsprint and then in all the clothes they own We wrap scarves around our heads and necks; I try to cover everything, even Leo’s small red nose

Outside, it hurts when I take a breath My lungs ache Beside h

A fullthe snow blue We stand around, all of us, ; so It occurs to me to wish that it were Leo His quiet scares me

“What do we do, Mama?” Anya says

“We find a truck Here, take my hand ”

My eyes water and sting as I start forward Leo is in hs me down so that I can hardly move Every step takes concentration, willpower I have to lean into the howling wind The only real thing in this icy blue-and-black world is ine idling and then roaring It is a convoy, I hope

“Come,” I shout into the wind, or mean to I aers enough to hold Anya’s hand

I walk