When I first bought my house in Texas, it was May. I’d sit at the kitchen table with the back door open, watching my girls in the doorway watching the rain, turning to look at me in wonder every few moments. They had played wild every moment since the fence went up, no leash tethered from my wrist to their harness.
I wanted to open the door today and watch the rain here in Portugal, but it isn’t the same. There’s no green grass out the window, only cobblestone roads and neighbors that live too close.
The day is just gray, no sweet girls to observe, to adore.
