I stand alone in in a large pasture next to a large rock left there by the passing of great glaciers. At the base of the rock scattered about are red shot gun shells where one of my cousins was shooting. The empty shells smell of spent gunpowder.

The field is dotted with rocks and stones. Cows graze there too. The odor of their droppings mingles with that of the gunpowder. The grass is dark green covered with morning dew. I do not know that I am lost.

I hear the voices of my mother and my sisters. "Eddie Eddie." they cry out.

Long ago is like yesterday for some things.

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