‘Velda?’ I ask, ‘is this really you?’‘It is my husband, it is,’ she says, tears already steaming down her cheeks, ‘Welcome home to your ...amily, my darling.’Before I can even embrace them to my bosom, I look at my dear wife, someone I haven’t seen in twenty-three years. Her beautiful face has hardly changed a moment in those years.When I faked our accident, half a galaxy away from this point here, Velda was twenty terran-years, and my son Ivan II was just two then; and my expected daughter. After some discussion Doug and I detached the wagon and went to attach the post hole digger to the back of the tractor. While we were gone Michelle ran the disc across the plot mixing in the manure and breaking up the soil some more. By the time we got back they were just starting to pick up rocks again.Doug asked them to throw the rocks into the wagon. Sara wanted to know if they would have to do this every time they plowed. Doug said for the first several times they would, but after a while. More

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