June on the Oregon coast.
We had debated the timing and the season and had arrived at June because June was the month when the coast was most itself, the fog burning off by mid-morning and the afternoons clear to the horizon, the Pacific in its summer configuration, large and considered and willing to cooperate.
The headland was exactly as it always was. Unchanged by any of our visits, indifferent to the significance we attached to it, doing what it did regardless of the twenty people assembled on its grass on a Saturday in the first week of June.
Twenty people.
Callum and Petra. Mrs. Aldren in a coat the colour of sea glass that she had clearly chosen with care. Diana, who had come from London with the specific energy of someone who has decided a thing is important and is fully presen
