Rain-slicked roads snaked though green rolling hills and hugged tightly quaint little brick houses whose fronts were dotted with antique rose bushes. Drops falling onto the windshield, first slowly one by one as if in warning and then quicker and quicker like troopers arriving, created a marching cadence for the drive that morning. Fog creeped along the interior of the window shield and windows so, he cracked his own to try and head it off. His little finger flicked the window button quickly and with the ease of a seasoned pilot at his controls.. The cracked window allowed entry the fresher morning air and mingled and lifted with cinnamon tea vapors and morning coffee steam. He took in a deep controlled breath into his nostrils then exhaled with an equal amount of composure. Coupled with the little boy’s silence, this sigh seemed far too wise. And the kind of inkling known very well to mother’s began to rise in her heart…..