I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belong — Janet Fitch, White Oleander
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I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple.

— Janet Fitch, White Oleander
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