TO WHAT GREEN ALTAR: Emma, my mother, was a sweet, beautiful woman, accomplished at many things. Then, at 90, she got dementia, and I became her sole caregiver: I lit the candle on the deck of our little boat and together we sailed down the dark stream. Seven years later, just after Christmas, our little boat met a sharp bend, and there we encountered the rapids. Emma became agitated. One night I sat beside her until dawn, holding her hand; that calmed the storm that night. Yet the storm persisted. She didn’t know how she got on this boat, and she wanted off; she wanted out of here: How do I get out of here? Can someone tell me how to get home? This is the story of our long journey, Volume II. -Samantha Mozart