They talked late into the night - hesitant and awkward words that stumbled down the line like quiet fingers reaching out, and then a gentle touch - a pulling back, afraid to want too much - afraid to lose the little love they found.

“The more I learn, the less I think I know.” “Maybe we should have never left the garden - don’t say ‘I told you so’.” It’s hard to hold on - sometimes harder to let go to the things that I’ve learned after the fall.

In that dream the garden was a small mid-western town where the sunlight settled slowly through the trees. It was not so much the place as the time, the space, the state of mind - a knowledge that there’s so much life to find - all clear and open skies - one day at a time.

Years after the fall, they found their way back to the garden, and it hadn’t changed at all. Still they felt an overwhelming sense of loss when they found out just how much their freedom cost. They knew that this was not, and could never be, their home again.