Even my tired eyes can be lifted to this, the golden, sinking sun. Turned pink, my hands, and his, wander through the grass, the backyard apple orchard, almost fully picked but for the winesap, dark red and waiting.
A streak across the sky, my heart kind of picks up its beat.
I know no better medicine than this.
Weariness, sometimes, is part of the deal. Today, the day, the week, it all left me slumped on the couch. But little boys need things to do, and sometimes those things, a walk at dusk, are what the mama needs to.