Grandma and Grandpa Grohn lived in Minnesota, and we in Oregon.  After we had visited them, or they us, Grandma would cry at our parting.  She couldn’t help it – she was old and thought she would not see us again here, though she expected to see us There.

That tension which runs from one eardrum to the other, just in back of the soft palate, that tension stealing the voice, is part of the reason I have never moved too far from home.  My brother, herculean, must be stronger than I as he wends his way back toward the airport.