I caught up with a friend today, on a long walk, with two kids and one happy dog in the long, yellow light of Spring.
The dog stopped, pointed, flushed a wing-thumping grouse out of the undergrowth.
The boys lagged behind, discussing something that likely involved dragons or other magical creatures.
And my friend and I told the stories of the weeks that somehow have been lifetimes and years: foster kids for one of us, a new and permanent home for the other, and all the feelings and ideas that have gone with both: trust and fear, anxiety and ecstatic joy, resentment and tender-hearted gratitude.
Ennis and I stayed for supper and didn’t leave until after 8:00– these long, bright evenings make it impossible to believe the day is really done. These long, luminous twilights make it impossible to know just what the universe will reveal, and when.