Washington. I unhooked my car from Uncle Palaver's motor home and brought it around to the front of the
house.
"Where you headed?" Trevor asked. I told him
and explained why.
"Can't blame the girl. I guess," he said. "After
you lose someone you love or someone who loves
you, you'd forgive them all their sins and
imperfections if you could have them back. You'd
even make a deal with the devil."
"That's who Echo would have to speak to about
her mother," I told him, and he laughed.
"Have a good time," he said, and returned to his
favorite work. I realized it was work that kept him in
close contact with the best memories of his life. It was
truly a labor of love, and despite all the complaining
Mrs. Westington voiced about it, she was happy for
him, maybe even envious. I wished I could find a way
to reconnect with my good memories, too, reconnect
without all the baggage of sadness that accompanied
them.
I honked the horn and Mrs. Westington brought
Echo out. She had helped her choose one of her new
skirt and blouse outfits and she did look pretty. It was
a partly sunny day with high brisk winds smearing the
clouds over the blue sky so that they thinned out and spread like tattered white cloth toward the southwest. Sunlight brought a brightness to her face the way it
would open a flower.
Echo got into the car. She was very excited
now, the short trip truly a major adventure in her eyes
because it was just the two of us. She watched me
drive and then told me Tyler had promised that soon