9:53am. Sunday.

What if we let the morning go as slow as it wants to go? Teutonic shifting. What if we give up all resistance? 

She has spent her whole life waiting for other people to be ready to do what they said they would. "Hello," she says, "I've peed already. I have a story to tell you. You're going to love this story!"

It's about walking in the rain with her dad and the dog. Down to the bridge. Remember the bridge? Torrential rain. And her mom had to come and pick them up and she got the dog in the car and wanted her in the car too, but she didn't want to. She wanted to finish the walk. 

It is told before we hit the street and its splashing heat.

It is late and bright, all the early soft burned off. Time for church. We do not see another soul. We favor the shady side of the walk. 

Today we pull no punches.

"Now we go down," I say, "And you know what happens then?"

By the end of the walk she knows the answer. "Up! We go back up!"