I thought as I carried the watering can from its place upended near the coiled hose at the southeast wing of our house to rest it atop the coiled hose at the southwest wing so that I could mow the tall grass that had grown up through it that my entire life had led me to this moment.
Why had I done it? I’m not sure. One inner voice said, “Pick up the can,” the other, “Forget about the can, Jack, go back to watching ‘SportsCenter.’ ”