The next morning, after I hauled all our supplies for the day trip out to the car like a pack mule, Sawyer, Beau (who had insisted on coming by jumping onto my back and then perching on Saw’s backpack/diaper bag like a raven), and I headed toward Richmond to see Berlinda with a quick stop at the local donut food truck for a dozen of their huge glazed. The drive was mostly interstate, my least favorite kind, but it was made tolerable by Sawyer’s newfound love of storytelling, which typically involved superhero-like feats of physical prowess performed by himself or Baby, his doll. I kept myself busy by deciphering his grammatically cryptic sentences and marveling at how his brain worked. Still, the drive was tiring, and I looked forward to our meandering return home via backroads in a couple
