the day after yesterday. the day before tomorrow.

Today.

There is a tangle of branches outside my bedroom window, the bay window that is, and beyond the branches a field and then more townhomes, just like mine, but each one different. That was and is the beauty of this development, every floor plan is different, every townhome, unique.

Yesterday the two geese were back. First on the pond then walking up the slope and into my backyard, gingerly making their way across the lawn, stretching out their necks, careful, listening, the sun on their backs, the wind, ruffling their feathers. They meandered across the road, to the open field, cars slowed down, some having to stop to let the geese pass. And then, they nibbled in the grass, eating what? I love those geese, the joy of watching them. Will they be back again? Or are they gone for good.

And outside, there is the quiet rumble of traffic. While down the hall, Dylan works at his computer, blowing his nose periodically. And the cat, Star, wanders in, sniffs at things, jumps on the bed. He is old, his left hip is bum, still, he walks up and down the stairs. He rarely mews these days, instead, when outside, he will scratch on the long window off the deck to be let in, he only meows to be let out, or to get more food in his dish. Now, he lays next to me, warm against my leg. And outside again, are the geese, honking near and then gone. And downstairs, Ray plays games on the internet, watches basketball.

Last night Chuck stopped by after midnight to drop off a computer cord for Ray. Ray told me that this morning. I miss Chuck, just like I miss all my children, because they are no longer my babies and there is a special loneliness in this. Nonetheless, they are still just a hallway or a phone-call away.