Last year, I was at an event in Jerusalem. There were tens of thousands of people crushed into the squares and twisted streets of the old city. It was so crowded that movement was almost impossible – this huge throng of humanity was shoulder-to-shoulder and unable to move freely. Amplify my dislike of crowds with my concerns about how perfect these conditions were for a terrorist attack. As I fought my way through this crowd I was not happy, and suspect that very few people were.

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It has been exactly six months since David and I retreated to the cabin. When we left:

• koalas were just emerging from the devastated ashes of the Australian outback, their arms extended to anyone who might help them.
• Fracas, dog of my heart, who was still adjusting to the loss of his left eye, had become slow and uncertain, his joy no longer the palpable force it had been for the previous thirteen years
• one of my dearest friends, Susan, was moving from the hospital back into the home she loved and shared with her husband.

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