I stopped by to visit my sister, one of the best things about a late Friday
afternoon. My nephew dashed in with a couple of his buddies. They'd walked
home from middle school. He filled me in on the latest and then they were
off to toss the football around out front.
When I got home, I saw this picture on a kitchen counter full of family pictures.
He was three or four then and hopscotching along the driveway.
I was struck, again, about the way time moves. Where had those seven or eight years
traveled to exactly?
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