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
for you!”
“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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