Windows

The boat was set and my boy was tucked in his seat snoring away.  I glimpsed a loose chunk of camo at the front of my blind and was about to fix it when I was reminded that was Moose’s window.  

After years of hunting she had warn away a little opening to poke her face through and spy the sky and bog before us.  

She’s not here any more, but her memories sure are and so is her window. Right where it belongs.