I set off alone one autumn evening at my parents’ house, leaving Sparks to feed Mimi her evening cereal, my mother to mop up the pork roast and mashed potatoes and green beans she’d thrown on the floor, and my dad to wash her accumulated bottles and baby spoons…
I saw a forgotten picnic table, gently sinking back into the earth
I saw the summer’s abundant milkweed letting go of fluffy seeds
And I saw the tiny village of British Soldiers, still flourishing
And then I turned back home, to kiss the baby and read her bedtime story.