grandchildren

Yesterday was the kind of warm sunny day in early December that feels like fall, not winter. Walking with my dog, Keren, past a parochial primary school playground at recess. Kids wrestling, showing off, swooping around in a ball game, chirping and shouting, making playground noises—like a flock of birds. I passed on, down the hill, and then turned back to see what the sudden rise in noise and pitch was all about.