Leaving.

I said goodbye to Monica between the grandmothers completing of the paper and the children going off to school. The residual rain seemed to bring on a certain long awaited serenity that day, and even Bilbo the cat could not muster the energy to open his eyes for the coming day. Our goodbye was brief and unemotional and was almost formal, and even Grandmother would not let up on the paper. Bilbo the cat seemed more responsive to my leaving, and even honored me with one eye slightly open, as if his sorrow was to remain in slumber for now, and perhaps he would be willing someday to receive me again.