There Will Be A Map
The year winds down. Only a few weeks, a handful of days, left. I’m specifically not counting , but this year’s Tracks class is keeping count in a way that others haven’t. “Is this the last day I play the rhythm,” one asks. I force myself to think. Ada answers, though. She seems better equipped to think of the bittersweet in the beginning/endings, thankfully.
The Small Things That Loom Large
The children found two headless baby birds. What happened? Things are rough for birds out there. That it was a predator was certain, because the heads were gone. So that was the discussion. What did it? And should the pink beads go in the ground when it is buried? The facts, just the facts.