The Copper Kettle

At last, the thing was partially levered out of its grave and Frank lay his head down, panting with relief. It was a copper kettle, discoloured and bent. They weren't made anymore, but this one was clearly recognizable. Uncle Jim had had one just like it. It may have even belonged to him. Cradling it, Frank curled up around it as best he could, comforted. Surely it was a sign, from Mary or Jim or even God, telling him to keep on going. Its shape rounded by frozen dirt and leaves, Frank move...