We missed the small-town parade but made the cookout.

Evening sun hits the wall. Which needs a little dusting, I guess.

I’m trying to read these letters my father sent home from Vietnam, again. I tried two years ago and just … couldn’t. It’s still hard but, today, I needed to.

It’s been 33 years, still think of him daily. I used to have so many questions, things I still needed him to teach me. Maybe by now I’d have some things to offer back.

One of these is genuine, the others are reproductions.

The Mrs. planted some hibiscus out back and it has been blooming for weeks.

One of my minor complaints about our house is the lack of light. It’s a big, old house with not a lot of windows, so it feels dark to me. So when a sliver of light slips through the kitchen, past the dining room and into the short hall … well, you don’t walk past it.

It was past 5 p.m. on a Friday during the summer at a university … why was I still there?