Sitting on the back deck. Surprised to see that the mobile of forks and spoons Isabelle hung on the Japanese Maple tree years ago is still there. Some of them have fallen off, the twine slowly disintegrating.
The new apple tree is blooming. Planted in the same spot as the one that died.
Earl's collar and toys buried beside it.
This is our yard. This is our house. This is where we've raised our children.
Feels almost startling sometimes to get a glimpse of your own life with a fresh awareness. Like you've popped out of a tunnel, if only for a few minutes, and you get to look around at how things are. Then poof - you're back in it, and it all disappears again.