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brushed a tear off my cheek and the night slipped quietly away as we sat. We sipped the rest of our tea, looking out over my yard and across to Cal’s land. His thoughts became increasingly disjointed and slower as he tired, and he began to mumble strange things again. I could hear and remember only one such soliloquy, which sounded like another of his Cherokee poems. He translated for me: “In a dark moon, when the stars touch the earth, the Old Ones come down, to help the People.” We sat in the quiet as golden lights of fireflies blinked on and off in the dark as they hovered over my yard and the meadow across the road.
    Cal sighed and rose slowly from his chair. “I reckon Homer and I need to get on home. I do thank you for the tea and the kind hospitality. Been a long time since I’ve had such a good talk.”
    “Me, too,” I said. “You’re most welcome to visit anytime. And Homer as well, of course.” Homer had risen when Cal did. They both moved slowly down the porch steps into the yard.
    Cal looked up. “Would you like to come over to our place in the morning? There’s some things I believe you’d enjoy seeing. Things you’d appreciate.”
    I was stunned and overjoyed. “I’d love to,” I said before he could change his mind.
    “Good.” His head hung down and his voice trailed off to a whisper tinged with sadness. “Good.” We set a time to meet and said our good-byes before Cal and Homer crossed the road to go home.
    Cal was no longer in view but I heard the faint crunch of gravel as he walked toward home. His humming grew louder then he once again broke into song. A little farther on, I could hear the muffled cry of Homer, howling along as he joined in on the chorus.
    I took my time washing up the dishes. With a contented sigh, I walked up the staircase, pausing to look over my living room. I had left an old-fashioned desk lamp on in the far corner of the room. Its light shone softly over familiar chairs, tables, and the few decorative pieces I’d become attached to over the years. I sighed again and continued up to the bedroom thinking,
So nice to be home.
    I tossed about in bed, turning my back to the alarm clock, when I heard a noise downstairs. It was a soft sound, like a single drip of a faucet. I lay still and quiet, but heard nothing for a long minute, during which time I convinced myself that I’d heard nothing at all in the first place.
    Weary deep in my bones after the long day, I could feel my body relaxing and my mind crossing over to dreams, then to sleep. I barely heard the second droplike tap downstairs. Just before I drifted off, I thought whatever it was could drop to its heart’s content until morning. I was much too tired to fix a leaky faucet in the middle of the night.

six
Jane Tours Cal’s Land
    T he loud chirping of birds outside woke me very early Still tired from all the excitement of the previous day and late night, I got up nonetheless, anxious to have my breakfast and set out to visit Cal’s land.
    I looked out my upstairs window to see the sun rising over the treetops and coming gently to rest in my backyard. I hurried into my running gear and downstairs with only a quick stop for my morning ritual of water with lemon, then out into the fresh morning.
    Once again, a hint of fall hung in the air. I breathed in as much of it as I could, held it, and let it out slowly. Never have I enjoyed stretching into a sun salute so much as on this morning, the first in my new home. After a short series of more stretches, I set out on my morning walk.
    The Colonel saw to it that I kept in shape. He was something of a fanatic about it, actually and also when it came to teaching me self-defense. His favorite method of instruction was through sneak attacks to test my instincts and reflexes. If you’re familiar with the Pink Panther movies in which Cato does the same to Inspector Clouseau, you have the idea.
    Mornings are when I miss the Colonel most, for that was when we always