I Still Call My Kids When I See Something Amazing

Standing at the kitchen sink washing my hands, I glanced, absent-mindedly, out the window toward a solitary orange tree that sits against our garden wall. A majestic, yellow and brown Monarch, its wing span at least four inches, fluttered from branch to branch in a butterfly ballet.

I turned, instinctively, to call to the kids, Hey guys, come see the butterfly, but the turning of my head pulled me to the present. Katie was twenty-three years old and two states away teaching fourth grade, and...