Picturing It

My friends lived in Sparks, just outside Reno, and one afternoon I set out to explore their neighborhood on my own.

It was quieter than downtown, but no less beautiful. Ponds and lakes wound between the homes, golf course greens rolled toward the mountains, and an old water tower stood above it all. The trees were changing to red and gold, with leaves piled in bright drifts along the paths. A line of geese crossed the green as if they owned the place.

From the hilltop, I could see the whole valley spread out beneath the mountains, and for the first time I could picture what everyday life here might actually feel like. The joke was starting to sound like a real question.