I was leaving my father, my partner, at the home I grew up in. I was happy and sad, and so was this man. To get away from him standing on the veranda, I walked down the stairs, across the driveway then behind the garage. Much time had gone by since I was a child at that home. Seasons summer to spring passed as I traveled by fir trees, ferns, and the cedar shingles. By the woodpile on my way to the compost in the woods, snow melted and I looked back to the house. My bed pillow left out through the winter lay on the grass, and dried quickly in the new sunshine.