The year the wolves came

This was the first book to ever make me cry. I think I was in 3rd grade. It took me years to track down this book because I could only vaguely remember the plot leading up to the ending and what the cover looked like. Some kind soul on reddit helped me figure it out, and I promptly purchased a second hand copy online. But then it's sat on my shelves for at least a year, regularly pulled off and looked at, but never opened. When I know something has made me sad before, or suspect it will make me cry, I tend to avoid it like the plague. Even though I know the ending, even though it's been 20 years and logic tells me I won't be quite affected as much.

Two days ago my dog, my sweet boy that I got just four months into living on my own, passed away unexpectedly. He had cancer in his liver and spleen that we didn't know about. He was only 6 and a half. He always listened to me so attentively and I remember telling him everything I could remember about the book when my copy first arrived at the house. I have cried so much the last 45 hours, but there's still more in me to come. I thought now would be a good time to finally reread this book so I can cry about something other than my sweet Kel. It worked. And the book held up to my childhood memories which is a rare and special thing. Pinky's prayer did get me. “Go forth, O unhappy spirit, from this troubled body and imperfect world into the paradise that has been prepared for you by the Almighty Father...” The important detail is that Mama was not unhappy, she loved deeply and was just as loved. And so is Kel.

I've never read another story by Bebe Faas Rice, and it's my understanding she writes scary stories for children. While this one might be haunting, I find it more moving than anything else.