About an hour before dusk the sun dips just below the tree tops. I walk through the house turning on lights while the sounds of children playing outside drift in through open windows. Sweet potatoes bake in the oven and I think about how short our fall afternoons are becoming. I call to the boys in the yard and see home-lights burning in the open windows of our neighbors across the street. I love that. I hope they look my way and see my lights and love it, too.
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