Driving out to an orchard
Fields of corn in the bright sun. The repetition soothing, up and down the little hills
The clouds like paint, like whipped frosting today, neat puffs of a pattern like tire tracks, echoing the rolling fields below
A few moments of peace or something daring to approach it. Just observing, not thinking
Seeing my son explore, choose a tiny pumpkin, eat half an apple
It was easier, maybe, because it was something Zack wouldn’t much have enjoyed. Seems normal to go with friends without him, as if he’s just at home getting a bit of a break to work on his homelab or drill a hole for a hook or myriad other things you can’t do while simultaneously toddler-wrangling.