Yesterday

The summer breeze carries a slight chill, signaling the end of the day's long heat. Mountains settle into blue-gray in the distance, silhouetted against a pinkish sky. Across the deck a simple melody folds over itself as T fiddles around on a guitar. My body relaxes. The lists, the dishes, the endless loop of tasks don't matter for now.

Foreheads huddled together, Puppy and I work on the mystery of funnels over the water table. (Where does the water go?) Every time the water gurgles through the spout he laughs in astonishment then frowns, thinking. After several repetitions he looks up at me, meets my eyes. He smiles.

That's when it happens. One of those moments which hangs suspended, time expanding until you feel you'll be able to remember every detail. Nothing extraordinary has happened. Just everything briefly distilling into a moment of pure contentment.