Stephen's body was found the day of the funeral, more than seven miles downriver of where he was last seen. That night I drove home to Vermont, and the next morning went back to New Hampshire to meet up with the Liz and the girls. A few days later our trip was over and I took a two week vacation, where all I did was read and cook. That's all I remember, anyway. I went kayaking once and expected it to mess me up a little, but it didn't.
I returned home to Seattle on a late night flight, got in all disoriented and sore. Even though it was just the beginning of August, the weather was about as bland as an in-flight movie and I started to look for work, so I considered the summer to be over.
The story of Stephen doesn't end, of course, but this is where I stop telling it.