Becca at this point was racing again across the high grass, hands outstretched to show us her budding collection. When she reached us, we each got a handful of petals to keep safe, with the quiet request, “Make sure you don’t lose them, please.” She was polite, but unmistakably insistent. Carol and I settled on a nearby rise and watched our child play. “In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play,” Nietzsche said.
