I found it difficult to not stop and admire the dresses,especially when I came across one which I knew, somehow, was mine. Itwas a summery pink eyelet...dress with lacy white trim on the hem andshort, poofy sleves, a white peter pan collar and a white satin sashthat was tied in a huge bow in the back. Before I knew it I had gotten out of my grown up clothes (which somehowhad gotten very loose and baggy) and into the... no, MY dress. But Ididn't have much time to enjoy my dress before the voice. My daughter. My little Kaylene. Hell, she was eight ... almost nine months old now and burbling happily as she grabbed toward my wispy beard. As blond as Kyle was, the hair on his face wasn’t all that thick. The hair on his head, though, was long and Kaylene loved getting her fingers tangled in it.“You’ve come back,” Theresa said. “How long this time?”“I never know, Theresa,” I said. “But it’s winter. Have you seen any hawks circling this month?” She shook her head.“Is that what it is?”“The. More

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