There I stood once again before my mother's middle dresser drawer, happily extracting one of her bras to take away for my own use while the family was...away for the day. It was a heavy duty, industrial strength garment, providing the kind of the support needed by Carrie Nation as she wielded her massive ax against a solid mahogany bar in a den of iniquity. Were it to be made of brass instead of the fruit of the rubber tree it would have not been out of place adorning a robust Viking matron upon. So I had to be Wendy and she called me Wendy for a few months, then forgot about it. I never forgot.So I published the poem under the pen-name Wendy and sent him an email asking him to keep in touch, and let me know how things were going. And send some more poems!I heard nothing more.A year or so later, a reader asked me about "Wendy". My curiosity was piqued. I asked a friend of mind, a computer whizz, if he could find the home address from the email address.He could. It was outside a small. ??Not necessary, Lady,? the maid answered with tears in her eyes. ?Are you not coming with us???There are other things I must do first,? Morgana responded with a heaviness to her voice that hadn?t been there until the last few minutes. ?I will meet you at the evacuation point.??As you say, Lady,? the maid, Laylai nodded with tears in her eyes. ?I beg you, don?t throw your life away. Too many of the family are already gone, losing you would be more than those of us remaining could bear.??Call. “Hey,” I said, “driver picks the music.”“My phone,” Lavi said, “and I’m not going for music. It’s an audiobook.”“Oh, what?”“Spies of No Country.”“Don’t know it,” Melissa said from the backseat.“My zaydeh recommended it. He loves history stuff and since I like spy movies and my dad told him I was really working to ace world history...”Melissa let out a snort, “I’ll bet he doesn’t know why.”Lavi put her nose in the air a little, “I don’t feel like that’s pertinent. But he and I don’t usually have.