imb in my sycamore tree； but I settled for watering the
lawn while I tried to think of other things。 I cranked open
the spigot and admired how rich and black the dirt looked as I sprinkled back and forth
across the soil。 And I was busy talking to my buried
seedlings； coaxing them to spring up and greet the rising sun； when my father came outside。
His hair was damp from a shower； and he had a
grocery sack rolled closed in his hand。 “Dad！ I'm sorry if I woke you。”
“You didn't； sweetheart。 I've been up for a while。”
“You're not going to work； are you？”
“No； I …” He studied me for a moment； then said； “I'm going to visit David。”
“Uncle David？”
He walked toward his truck； saying； “That's right。 I …I s