A flutter of wings in the dark glided through the sky, just barely within my sight.
“I think that was a bat!” I exclaimed to my four-year-old son as we walked from the car to the house.
Another dark shadow flitted by. Then another.
“The bats are waking up!” he yelled.
Although it was bedtime, I lingered outside with him. As he danced around like a springtime sprite, I sat down on the grass. I stared up at the moon, glowing behind the fog of a cloud. The shadows of deer moved among the gravestones in the cemetery behind our house. My son regaled me with tales of the bats coming out of hibernation and the geese flying back to their homes. The signs of spring. All may not have been right with the world, but there was a little peace in that space, at that time.
