Twenty-four nurses trailed into the room. They found seats within the circular configuration of chairs, where I sat. A mound of rocks rested in the middle of the circle.
I reached over the Suburban’s front seat, rummaging through our sweatshirts in the back, my butt in the air. My husband rolled the SUV to an incomplete stop at the end of our quarter-mile long driveway, ready to turn onto Russell Road and make the two-hour drive to Cape Elizabeth for our sons’ high school state track meet.
At the café table, I fiddled with my iPhone as I waited for my long-lost friend. My thoughts travelled to the morning’s drive when I noticed how the barren gray twigs aspired to swell and brown sloshy fields appealed to green.