He pulled his battered car on to her road, parked slightly to the edge of the weeds, window open and talked loudly on his cell phone. She heard him and assumed he was a good driver for pulling over to talk. She was wrong. It had taken him years to track her down, he was stunned to turn the corner and see her in her yard, a normal person, living life, on a sunny day. She didn’t even look his way for more than a second, presumably to ensure her kids weren’t in danger of being hit by his car as they chased their stray basketball across the country road. Her oldest looked to be the age he remembered her best, on the verge of becoming more than a child but less than an adult. Her garden was flush with lavender, just like her Mother’s had. She seemed light, happy. How some things changed but their shared past never would.