A soft rapping at my back door led me to investigate who was calling at such a strange hour. It was a weekday, noonish, and the rural neighborhood where we resided remained quiet from the absence of children and adults, who were presumably at school or work. My eccentric elderly neighbor who lived behind us greeted me with some vegetables she harvested that morning as an offering. I accepted with gratitude.
Our daughter, Sarah, was an infant then, and Ruby asked me how she was doing. I…