The mailman said he'd be back for dinner, our house smelled so good.
And we ate outside. After dark, we lit candles. We told stories. There was much laughter. I loved everyone at the table. Lovely. And I read my terrible babies poem. Under duress. I'm not one of those people who drag out my latest poem and make everyone listen until their eyes glaze over. Honest.
Next week I leave for LA to see one kid, then to the Bay area to see the other kid. Then a six day retreat. Among the deer, vultures and dumb turkeys. Love the turkeys. And to think they were almost our national bird.