Sunday was a beautiful day here in Vermont. I had the great fortune of waking up on Lake Champlain after a retreat with my beloved book Group. A bike ride in the chilly morning light was the beginning of a gorgeous day.
Late that afternoon Chico and I went walking. For one thing we needed to go to our neighbors Joan and John's house to drop off some food. They live on the opposite corner of the block from us.
As we got to their walkway a cop car was rounding the corner. I couldn't see the driver and reasoned it was one of the town police men that Chico knows as the car reached us. I went in and chatted for a minute and came back out to join Chico as the car was pulling away. I waved and asked if it was the chief. As I said this, I was leaning down to wave so the driver and I could see each other. I saw it wasn't the chief as Chico said, "No, it's Ken." "Is it the guy from the night?" Ken had restopped his cruiser. He waited for me to get to the car. We recognized each other. This was the man who came to our house the night of the accident. What a difficult task. He did it well, I remember asking him if it was the first time he'd ever had to deliver such bad news. He'd said it was. He was gentle and kind-both that night and when we saw him on Sunday.
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