I am now at an extraordinary time of life. A peculiar time. A sometimes difficult time. A time that I will miss.
Because these days, without notice, I am as likely as not to find an acorn rolling around in the empty drum of the dryer. Sometimes I find two acorns, or one without a cap, or just a cap, or– and this happened once– an acorn with the cap Still Attached.
And these days, also, without warning, I am likely to toss a small pair of jeans into the washer– a very small pair, such as might be worn by a girl who is Only Just Five– and, as these jeans go in, I might hear a shower of sand as it falls from a pocket, because a five-year-old girl put it there.
Extraordinary days, these. A good time.
