Noon, bedroom floor, everyone gone but us, window open against the law of the house, strong Texas sunlight through the sheer curtains, birds in the tree outside busy with nests and hot-weather insects hissing...
Our daughter had that morning broken a cascarones on her father's head, and when he bent close I could see how the confetti brightened his sparrow-brown hair, and when he was over me, fell all around my head and on my closed eyelids in a soft, sweet paper rain.
How long it had been since we were together like this, on a floor, in midday sun, warm and happy and then shivering, thrilled...
