The flood of austere streetlights cuts through the black of a moonless, starless night,projecting monstrous shadows onto fresh pavement – the row of tall oaks yielding to a stiff north wind.But just up the hill, a half a mile or so,is where the single well-lit porch,the faintly glowing front window,the well-worn red door,the well-loved facesContinue reading “Coming Home”