Five years from the conference room on the fourteenth floor fell on a Thursday in October.
We had not discussed what to do about it and then, on the Wednesday, Damien said, “Coast tomorrow,” and I said, “Yes,” and we took the children and drove to Oregon.
The cottage we rented was the same one as the birthday visit in the second year. The same cedar siding and the windows facing the Pacific and the kitchen that smelled like coffee and salt air. Rose remembered it, or claimed to, and Thomas experienced it for the first time with the wide grey eyes that assessed everything before committing.
We were on the porch by seven in the morning, the Pacific going about its enormous work below the bluff, the coffee doing its thing, Thomas in the carrier against me and Rose on her stool beside Damie
