Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect fall feeling - it’s been a quiet kind of magic here lately. Wrapped up in my favorite sweater (bonus points for the cozy knit!), sipping tea, and letting t...

“There.” That’s what she said, didn’t she? “Just put one foot in front of the other,” when we last saw her. A little too much expectation for such a silent agreement, perhaps. It hasn’t been that long, not really. Five years since the champagne stopped fizzing, seven since the dogs started sniffing around more than each other.

Feel it then, don't you? The slight shiftiness of the wool against bare skin – always a touch cool, even in August. This sweater was Dad's, of course. Not a sentimentalist, Dad, just pragmatic. He wouldn’t approve of all this fuss, would he? Certainly not the way these sleevesches sometimes wander, brushing the cuff of the glass…a bit of gin, definitely gin. Always gin.

Your eyes were ached for a while there, weren’t they? Like dry leaves after a good rain. A flicker of recognition, maybe, behind the polite curiosity. Before, everything was so clear, wasn’t it? Each laugh, each argument, each carefully chosen piece of art adorning the walls – evidence, if only we’d allowed ourselves to see it.

We haven' by mistake, did we? Or was it inevitable? Those silences aren't always bad, those ones where the scent of woodsmoke hangs in the air, faintly rememberig summer evenings spent outside. It’s easy to get caught off guard, isn't that it? So often, we just stand here, doesn’t every so often, feeling that familiar pull, a little hesitant, a little hopeful...

Now, don't stare quite so hard. Just look."

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