we sat at the base of the hill that rose darker than childhood behind us, watching the adults standing supervised in the courtyard and the sun like a searchlight lurching from its socket; drawing out our parallel shadows as it set. we had the problem of age: that desire to linger, not needing even to make a contribution anymore; just planning to fix things as they broke and stare at the ground. and then the children came running, and how strange it was to be the thing someone was running to; how strange it was that they were alone and we were not. i have not always lived like this, you know. but there they were, the young one wearing a blue coat nearly falling from a tree as we walked away.