Thursday, June 11, 2020

I remember the milk that was delivered to our kitchen door in the early morning. I had no idea that this service would stop. Milk, butter, cheese, cottage cheese. They just showed up a couple of times a week.

I am grateful that my house did not collapse. At first I thought it was an earthquake but no, it was the pounding machine rebuilding my neighborhood street.

Laughter escapes from the teenager’s room as she talks on the phone.  Life is good.

OK, Martin Walker’s book is now OK.  I am caught by the mystery.