I love little things like this. I never notice them until some unusual moment, like standing on the top stair, catching my breath while loading luggage.
What news, what happiness has come through the pressing of that doorbell over the years? How many times has it chimed inside? How many of the people who stood there and pressed that button where trying to sell something?
We’re heading home. The good news is that the black cat is traveling with us:
The bad news is that Allie has to spend the best part of a day in the car:
She’s an excellent passenger, though. Probably better than we are.
There are only so many rounds of “I Spy” you can play in the mountains.
“Something green!”
And we learned we’re both pretty bad at 20 questions. We couldn’t especially remember the rules and had a hard time keeping count, which sort of blunts the purpose of the game.
But we are home at last. Our doorbell button looks undisturbed.
