Dad says he can remember exactly what he sold corn for the year I started college. I remember him saying he should have waited, which could describe most years. We argued about it on Sunday until Mom found the old paperwork and neither of us had the right number. He was closer, unfortunately. I've been thinking about how certain I sounded. I can pull up a price chart and know what happened, but the story I remember includes weather, a kitchen radio and whichever one of us was annoyed. Those don't appear on the chart. Dad has already told my brother he won. Technically he didn't, but I won't get that corrected.

Ran the gravel square before breakfast. Wind behind me on the first stretch, which should have warned me not to feel so pleased with my pace. Coming home I had to lean into it and could feel the cold on my front teeth every time I opened my mouth. My legs were fine. Breathing took more work than usual, partly because I was trying to keep the same pace as the easy side. Stood by the mudroom door afterward with my shirt warm and damp under the jacket. Didn't look at the phone until I'd got my shoes off. Mostly because my fingers were too cold to operate it.

My nine-year-old wanted me to see a school picture before I left and I said to put it on the counter. Got home and it was still there, face down, with my name written across the back so nobody could mistake the intended audience. That got me. More than a lecture from my mother would have. I asked about it at supper and got a full explanation of every animal, including one I had identified incorrectly. A horse, not a very tall dog. I was glad to be told. Then the phone rang and I was irritated before I even knew who it was. For once the caller hadn't done anything wrong.