I stumbled over a shoe in the living room yesterday morning. It wasn't mine and it wasn't Lyman's. I checked the guestroom, and lo, there was a son asleep. I looked out the window and found Michael's car. We learned later that he had been in Baton Rouge scouting for a new job. He wants to move back to Louisiana from Dallas, where he can be with his brother and friends and within easy driving distance of Vidalia. He came late in the night, after both Lyman and I had gone to sleep.

The discovery recalled a post from some months back where I recounted a dream in which I found Ken Layne asleep in the guest room one morning. I didn't ponder or analyze that dream because such a thing is utterly normal around here. If I find a boy asleep in the guest room or on the sofa, I don't ask, "What the heck are you doing here?." I ask, "Would you like some breakfast?"