I stood at a crosswalk on Kavanaugh Boulevard with my 8-year-old daughter. Glowing yellow signs declared that pedestrians had the right of way, that cars should yield to those crossing the street on foot. That neighborhood, built in the 1920s, sees a lot of foot traffic thanks to the era of its design.
It s a gray, drizzly April morning with a distinct purgatory feel. Clouds hang .on the tips of trees and the world is damp. It s Edgar Allen Poe weather, dropping a layer of melancholy on the day.
My family spent Easter visiting our college son at Sewanee, that beautiful place gracing 13,000 pristine acres high on the Cumberland Plateau. We ve spent every Easter for almost a decade there because of that beauty and the proximity to our kids. My oldest daughter lives in Washington, D.C., a direct flight to Nashville where my oldest son lives, so he can pick her up for the one-hour drive south. This year, our middle child decided to travel Europe while working remotely for a New York bank. Go figure. An Easter commute from Scotland wasn t happening.