It’s getting down to the 30s up there, he said. It’s just him and Abernathy and the quiet up there in the woods on a chilly evening. There is a fire in the fireplace.
He sent a photograph. The fading sun on the far side of the lake. Pink sky. Pink, still water. A blue bench for sitting. A place to view the land and to listen to that quiet. A place where we have set ourselves down many times over the many years. He knew well what he was doing when he sent that picture.
“Dang man,” I said.
“Yeah right?”
And that is all that needed to be said.