The day comes

and there's nothing we can do but understand that the boy, not really any longer a boy, must pack his things and return to school.



So that the hallway is now a tower of boxes hallway.  And the shirts have been washed and steamed.  And the last batch of summer cookies is cooling on the racks.  And my heart sits somewhere near my chin.



This is the ritual of the season, and when I saw one of my very best friends at a store today and she turned and I looked into her eyes, I knew that she, too, ...