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"
It
was
over
before
it
began
,
"
said
Grandpa
,
unwinding
the
wine
press
.
"
I
don
’
t
remember
a
thing
that
happened
except
some
new
type
of
grass
that
wouldn
’
t
need
cutting
.
"
"
You
’
re
joking
!
"
"
No
,
sir
,
Doug
,
Tom
,
you
’
ll
find
as
you
get
older
the
days
kind
of
blur
.
.
.
can
’
t
tell
one
from
the
other
.
.
.
"
"
But
,
heck
,
"
said
Tom
.
"
On
Monday
this
week
It
rollerskated
at
Electric
Park
,
Tuesday
I
ate
chocolate
cake
,
Wednesday
I
fell
in
the
crick
,
Thursday
fell
off
a
swinging
vine
,
the
week
’
s
been
full
of
things
!
And
today
,
I
’
ll
remember
today
because
the
leaves
outside
are
beginning
to
get
all
red
and
yellow
.
Won
’
t
be
long
they
’
ll
be
all
over
the
lawn
and
we
’
ll
jump
in
piles
of
them
and
burn
them
.
I
’
ll
never
forget
today
!
I
’
ll
always
remember
,
I
know
!
"
Grandfather
looked
up
through
the
cellar
window
at
the
late
-
summer
trees
stirring
in
a
colder
wind
.
"
Of
course
you
will
,
Tom
,
"
he
said
.
"
Of
course
you
will
.
"
And
they
left
the
mellow
light
of
the
dandelion
wine
and
went
upstairs
to
carry
out
the
last
few
rituals
of
summer
,
for
they
felt
that
now
the
final
day
,
the
final
night
had
come
.
As
the
day
grew
late
they
realized
that
for
two
or
three
nights
now
,
porches
had
emptied
early
of
their
inhabitants
.
The
air
had
a
different
,
drier
smell
and
Grandma
was
talking
of
hot
coffee
instead
of
iced
tea
;
the
open
,
white
-
flutter
-
curtained
windows
were
closing
in
the
great
bays
;
cold
cuts
were
giving
way
to
steamed
beef
.
The
mosquitoes
were
gone
from
the
porch
,
and
surely
when
they
abandoned
the
conflict
the
war
with
Time
was
really
done
,
there
was
nothing
for
it
but
that
humans
also
forsake
the
battleground
.
Now
Tom
and
Douglas
and
Grandfather
stood
,
as
they
had
stood
three
months
,
or
was
it
three
long
centuries
ago
,
on
this
front
porch
which
creaked
like
a
ship
slumbering
at
night
in
growing
swells
,
and
they
sniffed
the
air
.
Inside
,
the
boys
’
bones
felt
like
chalk
and
ivory
instead
of
green
mint
sticks
and
licorice
whips
as
earlier
in
the
year
.
But
the
new
cold
touched
Grandfather
’
s
skeleton
first
,
like
a
raw
hand
chording
the
yellow
bass
piano
keys
in
the
dining
room
.
As
the
compass
turns
,
so
turned
Grandfather
,
north
.
"
I
guess
,
"
he
said
,
deliberating
,
"
we
won
’
t
be
coming
out
here
anymore
.
"
