and watch the moon rise over the woods. she won’t know about the bats that swarm out of the trees at dusk and swirl in the sky, dipping and diving for mosquitoes. or how later in the night, two owls court one another, calling out back and forth. she won’t know that when my kids were little, i would take them into the woods and uncover the arrowhead i had buried the day before and talk to them about the indians who used to live here. nor will she know how every christmas all my family comes over and we eat in the garage and then nap while the kids 