2.

I live in a log house nestled in a river valley between an alpine prairie and mountain range. My mom was seething when we bought this small ranch as a family retreat. She doesn’t like dust.

So I was a little confused last month when my dad told me to ‘just play along’ if she mentioned moving here in our weekly phone call.

I did. Play along, that is. 

My dad woke up pre-dawn last Tuesday to the rustle of her shoving underwear and nightgowns into a suitcase open against the Puget Sound. She’d decided that she indeed wants to live here, that she loves this place, that the quiet din of wild sunset sky hitting cragged peaks suddenly suits her, in her own graying half-light of memory.

My dad is trying to make her happy, to ease the struggle for both of them. 

He called Allied Van Lines on Friday. They should be pulling into the driveway any minute.