Hot. I try to use the light from the moon to figure out how to open the windows.

I come out and set my computer down at the desk by the window, and then someone’s alarm goes off. A head pops up.

A scramble to get all of the dishes done and the fridge cleaned out before check-out. Many hands make light work.

I tell her it feels like I won’t see her again for years, but it will just be three days. We drive out of the woods and back towards the ocean.

We choose the long way home.

“But you can’t beat these views.”

“Why are there cow crossing signs on this road?” “Where are they coming from?” “Do you know that cows can’t walk downstairs?” “How do you know that?” “Yeah. If you take a cow upstairs, you can’t bring it back down the stairs?” “Why are we taking a cow into a house and up the stairs?”

A man gets out of a blue truck. He is wearing a brown robe with a hood. I say he looks like some character from Star Wars, and then the two boys begin to quiz each other on Star Wars facts.

Clam chowder, Hog Island oysters, and a glass of rosé for lunch overlooking the water.

She asks to go to the beach because she missed going yesterday. We head back north and find a spot. Her pink crocks in the sand. His red sneakers are in his hands. They show me shells. We find barnacles. The oldest climbs up and down the rocks in the distance. Glimmering water. The sound of the waves.

He asks why we chose St. Helena. I tell him the abbreviated version of the story. “What do you think about it now?” “It’s not that bad.” Well. We’re making progress.