I'm not done watching the sun go down from this particular spot in the world. But the man that owns the house is done, rolling up his family and his failures and heading back to Minnesota, and taking the lease with him.

On the car radio the woman says "I was acting as a bridge" and I come across the boy on his way home from school. He is walking up the hill, his hands full of wild onions.

Tomorrow, I will be married.