As I walked out the driveway to get our mail, I followed my own footprints to the mailbox. How deeply there were impressed in the ice. I thought of the dinosaur who left his prints in mud. Mine will be more temporal and will fade as quickly as the temperature climbs above freezing. That should happen Sunday. So my attempt at immortality will exist only through this picture.
Or, will I leave behind something more? I walked by a shelf at the Germantown Library this afternoon and there stood Pinehaven among the local history books. It's sharing space with Carl Becker's The Village, the definitive history of that village. They have four copies of his book, though.
In any case, Pinehaven is my letter to the world. I trust that it will continue to speak long after I am gone.
