Two people. One family. Their own memories.
Wes and Beverly grew up side by side in the oil field and then in Illinois. They remember the same years differently enough that both versions belong.
The first hour
Riding the Fender
Wes Strotman. The porch swing, the slush pit, the rain barrel, the planes over the tower.
The second hour
The Stairs Going Up
Beverly Jane Strotman Homann. Pictures and memory, the pit from the other side, the stairs where the children sat.
Together
Living High on the Hive
Wes and Beverly on the same line. Their mother. The pie. The sentence he never said.