There comes a point in a November afternoon when home begins to sound like a very good idea.
Perhaps we were playing football, tag, kickball, hopscotch, or Red Rover. Or chasing Frisbees in a field with others on a late Autumn afternoon. Walking thru the woods collecting fallen leaves for crafts. Or maybe raking leaves in the yard or for a neighbor. Splitting firewood. Taking the dog for a longer walk than the heat of Summer allowed.
A little earlier, we were perfectly content to keep going. Keep playing. One more play. One more quick game. Just a few more hickory pieces left to split. Or there was another bend in the path, something rustling beneath the leaves and another track to follow, a stretch of sunlight worth walking into.
Then the sun slips behind the trees, doesn’t it?
Our fingers are chilly and the shadows are getting longer. The November breeze has found its way down the back of our collar. And whatever lies around that next bend suddenly seems likely to keep until another day. And it is suddenly time to head home.
There is something satisfying about that part of an outing.
