A yellow house waits for us to return.  Mice scurry, deer look and we drove up in the yard to find wild turkeys, a blur of burnt sienna, heading for the woods. Arnie and Vivian were there, they rang the bell as we arrived.  Climbing out from sticky seats, slightly bent, and then straightening to hug them. Kids romping and kicking like colts.

The kids are grown, driving in their own cars, coming from busy city lives. We meet again, flags unfurl, cousins big and many, boating, laughing, bonfire smoke in our hair and taste of marshmallow washed down with wine.

Two summers ago I swam daily with a pair of loons, this seemed apropos and they circled me and we looked slowly at each other. They must have chosen another bay last summer, but I am counting on them returning this summer. I’ll be there, Kevin and I will be there, waiting for a pair of loons.