I sat on the top step of my front porch for the first time. Three years of living in an old farmhouse and I never sat there. I heard a hummingbird and looked up in time to see its underside, the light being captured by its white tail feathers.
In the 1950s and 60s my parents went out to card parties, often three times a week. My dad had a band well into his eighties so many Saturday nights he was gone. My mother hated the music but tolerated it and often hosted tea, sandwiches, and fresh donuts. But many a time, if he…