Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Say the word, we're there. Or he's here. And it is, as the Brits say, brilliant.
This weekend our son came here. The Devon Horse Show carriages rolling down the street. Our son rolling into town.
On Monday, we took our walk, for walking is how we do our best listening. Down the hill, past our neighbors, underneath the leafy trees, and my son began to talk about home, what it means to him, what he appreciates about the tiny house, only two bedrooms big, that has required so much work and time just to keep its warm heart beating.
I see what you have done and how you've cared, he said. And I love being there.
Maybe it's just me, but no review of anything I write or make could ever matter more.