It’s been two nights since I drank the river water with the inhabitants of this town and my heart has felt more settled than at any other time since I’ve come here.
My nights are not dreamless, but my dreams are not memorable.
They are ordinary.
Barbie came out to the fence line yesterday and when I went to meet her she handed me a paper wrapped package.
“I killed a deer last week and wanted to get some of the venison to you,” she said without preamble. “You know how to cook deer?”
“I can make a basic stew,” I said. I took the package and was shocked by how heavy it was.
She simply nodded once and turned to disappear.
I took the package into the house and put it in the fridge. I checked the bin and found I had the onions, potatoes, carrots and celery so I set to work making the stew.
There was a knock on the door in the afternoon and when I opened it I saw one of the children that had been with Bess at the river climbing back into a car.
On my step was a basket of fresh baked rolls.
I waved to the car as it drove down my drive and three hands waved back – one big and two small.
I feasted on stew and rolls.
It was a good day.