You alone?

Yes.

What are you doing?

Looking out the window at a tree across the street. Been watching it every day. Seeing colors change. Now they’re yellow. Maybe soon they’ll be red. Or maybe a pretty rust color before they turn brown and die, only to be raked into a pile by the curb.

You’ve put a lot of thought into this.

I like watching things change. Nature changes. People change. The culture of an entire nation changes. The old ways. Line them up and shoot them down. Bury them. Turn them into mulch. Yes. I like watching things change.

That’s quite a sweeping statement, she said. Have you changed? she asked. Or are you the same as you were back then? Back when we were married. You used to watch the trees change back then, too. We’d go for long drives in the country in that old pickup truck. I loved that truck. Old. Comfortable. The seats were worn in. Fit was perfect. And the windsheild wipers never worked, she laughed. It’s a wonder we never killed anybody, they both laughed. But those drives were special. We’d wind up at some country store where they sold scented candles, large colorful lollipops, apple butter, all this crap you didn’t need, but we bought it anyway.

I remember.

You used to point out the types of trees to me. Oaks, hickory, cherry, birch. We drove past apple orchards where you could pick your own. We never did. Too lazy. We just bought a basket.

Right.

Do you go on drives with her?

Sometimes. When the seasons change.

Just like us?

Yes.

Some things never change.