Ten days. Some of them on the porch, rocking and swinging. Some of them on couches, listening and learning. Some of them on the front steps, crying and laughing. Some of them at the table, smiling and eating. Some of them in the backseat of the car, giddy and giggling. Some of them at the creek, wet and relaxing.

Ten days to say hello and goodbye, ten days to live outside myself. Ten days to see the past, ten days to remember my place in the world. Ten days to frame my memories, ten days to feed my soul.