At the Bearwater Brewery, downwind from Canton’s historic paper plant, my daughter worries over what impact the first line of her poem might have on me.

After my son’s second surgery, a good friend asked me how I was doing, I replied, Not so good.

Are you praying?, she asked.

I tell her — Can’t do it right now.

Can you sit still and do nothing?

Champion at that, I respond.

Around the Thanksgiving table, during the second year of the pandemic, our daughter and son-in-law announce their desire to travel to New Orleans. They wanted to know if we could dogsit for their three dogs, including Daisy, an abused hounddog and recent addition to the family. Familiar with the role, we agreed. What could possibly go wrong?

When our good friend Becky offers to pay for dance lessons, I delight in being included. In addition to joining Jose and Annalyse at the Asheville Ballroom, I entertain a fantasy that I will tear up the floor during the daddy daughter dance with the crowd exploding at the end.

For a depressed introvert like me, self-quarantine feels like a paradise even when you hear hoofbeats underscoring the Nightly News. I get to be alone with my wife, Melanie, who I love, binge TV, write, read books, ride out the Apocalypse with my soulmate, and get paid for my service by the government. What’s not to love? The idea of an unraveling purge makes the quarantine even better.

On the twilight of a backyard party, I feel lost and helpless, crying and praying at the same time. And then it comes -- just what I needed at precisely the right time. Rising above a cacophony of tree frogs, crickets, and party voices, on a night when even a whisper carried, I hear my mother laugh.

When two sheriff cars pull into our driveway, an officer rolls down his window and asks my wife, ‘Are you the owner of a White Siberian Husky?’

She thinks, ‘Oh no, what trouble has he gotten himself into this time?’

Covid-19 hit a few months after we became empty-nesters, giving us both the time and resources to finally invest into a hot tub and a long overdue renovation of our deck.

I really want to honor your one and only request, I said to my wife immediately picturing myself next to her relishing the jet streams while watching football through an HD projector.

I was more than willing to make this sacrifice for such a loving wife.

On our family’s first camping trip, downwind from the restrooms, without a flashlight, they showed Sleeping Beauty, a story of what happens when true love invades.

The light is soft and warm, sifted through a mist rising in the valley, up from the ground, over tufted heads of ripe com. Annalyse wakes from her nap.

I dressed in layers -- two pairs of jeans and sweaters, my Elmer Fudd overalls, North Face Winter gloves, a hoodie, my bike helmet, and a gas mask. In my arms, I held two rackets -- one for tennis, one for racquetball, both for a war on bats.