Sunrise

     We didn’t know him long enough or well enough.  Only enough to love it that he loved the house that was once ours on the bay.  Only enough to share the wonder of the bears that visited the meadow there and the great blues that fished at the mouth of the slough.  And enough to know that he, too, gloried in the sunrises over the bay.
     Kyle Brewe was one of the nice guys of the world. For no reason at all last winter he pitched in and helped us clean up the trees on Territory Road here in Oysterville – the trees that the county had butchered.  He came by occasionally to our Friday nights.  He listened and laughed and added thoughtful comments.  But especially he listened.
     It was Kyle who read through my first “Mrs. Stevens’ ABCs” book – C is for Cranberries.  I had asked if he would critique it for me and he did.  He was thorough and helpful and complementary.
     It was Kyle who brought us load after load of sand and beauty bark and gravel for our landscaping projects over the years.  He sometimes teased a little about the work we planned.  Invariably, he had helpful suggestions.
     He was my son’s age.  Way too young.  We will miss him.