Our house is a very, very, very fine house
With squirrels in the yard
I can do anything if it is for him. The one who reminds me what the season is – back-to-school. Fall, in other … word. Cute food is not in our vocabulary anymore. Were I to mention it, I would be shut down in a middle school minute.
Still, the yellow buses are obstructing traffic with their one-armed warning and I’m almost teary-eyed from the reminders of circular seasons come and gone and coming round again.
Home is where the bruised and burnished heart is. He may pack his own lunch, but – for a few more years – he carries the lunch box home again.