I was pouring Earl Grey just this morning, around 7:15, and I saw my hand – my right hand, the dominant one – give a little shimmy, almost imperceptible, as the stream hit the teacup, and I found myself wondering, quite suddenly, how many more spring thaws and autumn leaf-falls I have left to witness from my window here, out where the only constant is the quiet hum of the crickets at dusk and the occasional siren from the county seat, always for someone you know...