I was sitting by the fire enjoying the darkening sky. Josh's graduation party was entering its ninth hour and going strong. In many ways it had been an idyllic day of family, friends, and fun. A gang of cousins and neighbor kids ran through the yard in their swimsuits, playing in the wading pool and squirting each other with pump guns. Folks came and left for other graduation parties and came back, floating inside and outside, eating and drinking and eating some more, tossing bean bags at the corn hole boards. Guitar, ukulele, harmonica jams popped up here and there mingling with the laughter and shouts of the kids, now with ice pops, now roasting hot dogs over the fire for their dinners. And now here I was, enjoying a tiny bit of quiet in the continuing whirl. Two small boys slammed out of the house and ran my way. They were on a mission to find an adult to supervise s'more making. In the dark, they didn't see me until they were almost there. "Look," cheered one to the other, "there's an old lady by the fire! Yay!"
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