homeward ovenbird It was a perfect Sunday, the sky so clear and wide that it could make you forget the world’s horrors. She spent the day with her daughter, feeling a lifetime of love passing between them. She moved slowly. Age and a cruel disease had taken so much over the past few years. But on a Sunday like this she could almost forget what was lost. Her eyes still worked well enough to see how many shades of green the trees wore, and the particular shape of her daughter’s face. She could feel the gentle hand on her shoulder helping her into the car at the end of the day. The sun came in the window and touched her face. Such a good day. And she was tired. So she thought she would just close her eyes, soothed by the muted rumble of the road. She called quietly for sleep to come to her and it pulled her into its arms, and death joined them and rocked her and she didn’t wake, arriving so peacefully at the gates of eternity, suddenly a child again, head nodding towards dreams, being taken gently, so gently, home. 260523 what's it to you? who go blather from