These days, Annie visits every other weekend. Earl comes for supper when his schedule allows. Bart still owes me a poker night. Brennan sends a Christmas card, usually with a short note about Howard Garrick’s carefully written easement. I sit on the porch with Beecher and listen to the frogs in the preserve named for my wife. My family’s fence line still follows the old watershed. The land remembers. The water remembers. So do I.

THE END

Disclaimer: This story is fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any names, characters, places, or events are fictitious or used fictitiously. No real person or organization is intended to be portrayed.

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