This, tonight

Walking across the drive from my mother-in-law’s house, I hear my brother-in-law’s white horse nickering for his chestnut companion who has been taken out for a ride by J. I can smell wood smoke, and the pine trees in the woods next to our house, and snow whispering to us from the Eiger on the horizon line. The lights on our house have just gone on and the sun is setting behind the birch tree. I am walking home to fry eggplant for dinner, to put into a tomato sauce with garlic and olive oil and fresh parsley; I am here on the gravel drive between the two houses my sons call home. It is a good place to be.

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