yards and color-coded gardens in rows or
sections of complementary hues.
On one of these walks, I reached the final fifty yards or so from the house and heard
my girls shouting for my attention. “Mommy. Mom. Hurry! Ian is on the phone waiting
“Let him wait,” I said, shouting back the first reply that came to mind. I didn’t increase
my pace one whit. When I reached the yard, I stooped to pat and play with the dogs,
keeping to our customary routine. My daughters watched me from the steps. Finally, I
strolled into the house, stopping to drop a kiss onto the foreheads of my messengers.
“Hello, Ian,” I said. “I was out walking the dogs. Did I keep you waiting long?”
“No problem. Listen, Carol, I’m coming to California to see you.”
“Why? I guess alright Whatever you
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