We were down to the last hours of summer.

George and I sat on the slope of the front lawn, he nestled against my leg intently, eyeing a neighbor’s open garage door for signs of the life he heard inside, I sprawled in the grass, soaking up the almost-autumn air. Rich golden sunlight played across the redding and purpling leaves in another neighboring yard, while the hills rolled gently beyond. It was the definition of a pastoral scene, or at least the definition of a pastoral scene just ten minutes removed from the bustle of I-66 at rush hour. Two Canada geese honked as they passed directly overhead. Behind us at six o’clock, the echo of a jet engine trembled in the sky while the jet itself, just lifted off from Dulles nearby, cruised in front of us at twelve. The slivered moon dangled at two, as whispy as a cloud. Just beyond the nearest hill, a horse whinnied.

It was less than ten minutes that we sat there. It was a ten minutes I desperately needed. It’s important to do the things that need to be done, but it’s also important to do nothing that needs to be done every so often.

That was exactly what I needed to do.

~ Laura