Uh, oh, looks like Father is upset because Mother is going to be late. I can tell by the way he slammed down the phone and started muttering to himself afterwards.

I wonder where the children are? It seems the older they get the less they are around. I can remember when the Girl used to sit in front of me and just look outside. If only I could have been a window to her thoughts instead. I know it would have been so very interesting to see what was going on inside her head.

During autumn, I remember the two children going outside to the yard and spending countless hours raking as many leaves as they could find. Then they would put them under the tree and jump off one of the limbs into the huge leaf pile.

I used to get so nervous that they would hurt themselves that I would fog up - then I wouldn't be able to watch. When I did fog over, I seemed even more attractive to the children. They would use their little fingers to draw and write things all over me. But that's okay because Mother would come over every Saturday and clean me with a cool, blue liquid. It was quite refreshing; it made me feel like new. It even brought back some of my sparkle.

Boy, those were the days. Now hardly anyone comes by to just sit. I watch them coming and going; walking back and forth from their cars. They are very busy people, you know. They do important things with their lives. Extremely important. They're just very busy, that's all. I understand if they don't have time to draw pictures on my fog-covered face and then wash the fingerprints off with the cool, blue liquid. I understand - completely - really, I do. 1