Palm Sunday Afternoon

Equipped with a lady bug umbrella and a drawing of an Easter bunny that doubles as a map, Harper and I set off on a trip. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“Jerusalem,” she says.

We sit on the back steps to consult the map. She points to the Easter bunny’s ears, then his basket, outlining our route. “We go across Market Street, then Elam, then Market Street again… then to the farm…” She looks up, surveys our yard, and points to the shed in the far corner. “Over there’s the farm.”

Directions established, we set out. The trip is not as complicated as the map made it seem, it turns out: we make a beeline for the corner of the yard, where she declares that we’ve arrived.

“Jerusalem!” she says.

“What will we do here?” I wonder.

“Play baseball!” And so we do.

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