Calvin in the latest of our brood to come of age - he thinks himself very grown now, he’s got a moustache to prove it. He’s told me his plans to move to the city and make a name for himself. Though I’m sorry to see him go, I can’t help but feel immense pride for all of my sons (and daughter) who are making their way in the world. Eliza mourns their departure, weeping about how small and innocent they used to be. Perhaps I am a bad father, to be able to smile as they leave...
















