Two people moving through bad weather together without knowing where life would take them.
Without knowing how many times love could change shape.
Without knowing that more than half a century later, the promise would matter far less than the kindness that accompanied it.
Behind me, Daniel opened the porch door.
“Margaret?”
“Yes?”
“The carriage-house roof is leaking.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course it is.”
Claire called from the kitchen:
“I told him to hire someone!”
“I can fix it,” Daniel shouted.
“You said that about the sink!”
“The sink is fine!”
“It flooded the pantry!”
“That was unrelated!”
I started laughing.
They both stopped.
“What?” Claire asked.
“Nothing.”
I stepped inside and closed the door against the rain.
That was the surprising thing about endings.
They rarely sound like orchestras.
Usually, they sound like a leaking roof.
Family arguing in a kitchen.
Coffee being made.
A door closing against bad weather.
