Later in the spring, before the phone call came, Lok Yeay watched me and Kiri after school. "When your mother was just a baby, as small as your brother is now," Lok Yeay said, "there was a day the birds stopped singing, a day the soldiers came." She sat still, and her hands stopped sewing. She didn't see me or my brother. She was deep inside, inside a sad, sad story. After a time, she raised her head and began again. "Four years later, we ran from the war. By then I had only two people left--my brother, who is your Lok Ta, and my little daughter, who is your mother. We took turns carrying her on our back, just the way you are carrying your brother." Excerpted from A Path of Stars by Anne Sibley O'Brien All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
