When I understood the difference, she was gone.
So when Caleb said his life felt like a field after a storm, crushed and muddy, he knew he shouldn’t give a speech. I told him what my grandfather would have said, “We’ll get it again.”
When I finally drove home, I was tired enough that my hands were hurting to grab the steering wheel. But I didn’t go to the house first. Maybe that sounds strange to people who don’t own land that have been going through generations. But after I left, I needed to set my eyes on him. I needed to see the rows of pines, the ridge, the stream, the grass, the fence. I needed to remind myself that at least one thing in the world was staying where I was supposed to stay.
Then I came by the ridge and saw the lake.