Hands reach over my shoulders as I sit on a dusty vinyl tablecloth on the ground at kid's club. "Julie!" calls a voice. I reach up to feel the hands. "Who is it?" I ask. It's Connie, just flitting by to say hello on her way across the park.
I sit down for snack and story time, in the midst of the throng but not with any child. A boy walks by. "Can I sit in your lap?" he asks, and snuggles in, leaning trusting against me and quietly reporting his thoughts and comments to me throughout the story time.
It's dusky evening, and we're standing in a semi-circle in the yard, the mountains circling behind us against the last light of the day and a few Granberry kids and friends on the roof in front of us. They've climbed up an old ladder and are scoping out this year's cherry harvest on the branches overhanging the roof. Beth throws a few down to Joshua; they laugh and hunt for the fruit and finally announce that there are actually not too many cherries this year and climb down, one by one.
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