In the valley
The mist sat beautifully on the hills this morning as I left home. Stopping, I clambered up the bank to see the view. In the valley I could hear the children's voices, faintly rising up to meet me as they played at school. Conor was down there, starting his day: it still feels strange to rocket past without seeing him. My grandparents are buried in the church yard across the paddock from the school.
It seemed like a morning for the ages.