I'm wandering along by myself today, following where my feet want to go. Earth and I have this agreement: I help her green and bloom, and she fills my ears, nose, eyes, tongue, and fingers with indescribable beauty.

   The trail winds up a hillside. Under a sturdy pine, a chorus of daffodils blazes a vibrant yellow song. Rhododendrons line the path, fat buds jostling among shiny green leaves. I reach up to stroke a bud; it starts to uncrumple into a purple flower, still shell-shaped, like a wet chick.

   I hear footsteps coming up the trail behind me and I turn.

   "Hermes!" I cry in delight.

   I run toward him, reaching out to grab his hands.

   "How is he?" I ask eagerly. "What did he say? Does he miss me? Is he busy with the horses? How is he doing with the greetings now that I'm not there? What was he wearing when you saw him? Did he—"

   "Whoa!" Hermes chuckles, giving my hands a squeeze, then letting go to run his fingers through his curls. "You need to let me talk if you want to know the answers."

   I lift my hand to my lips and pretend to turn a key, locking them shut. Hermes collapses in laughter, and now I have to wait a full minute while he regains his composure.

   "Oh, that's a good one!" he finally says, snorting. "Not allowed to talk!"

   "Hurry up, Hermes. Tell me how he is."

   "Impatient for you to come back, that's how he is. Lots of pacing, as if that could make any difference. Some trouble sleeping, he said, without you there."

   I sigh in contentment.

   "Got himself a new horse to break in," says Hermes. "He thinks that will help take his mind off the waiting. Oh, and he started this system for the shades, some kind of announcement board. When I bring over newcomers now, their names get etched on this big wall. There's always a cluster of shades waiting around to check the new names and there's . . ."

   He did it! My idea to let shades know when their loved ones arrive, Hades put it in place!

   ". . . lots more hugging going on around there. It's kind of noisy, if you ask me. And you should have heard your friend when I told her you'd found her daughter. Oh, and I almost forgot!"

   He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small wooden box tied with a scarlet ribbon. "He said to give this to you. To remember him until you get back, that's what he said."

   I grab it out of his hands and start picking at the knot.

   "Would I have been in trouble if I'd forgotten that!" says Hermes.

   I open the box, and there, nestled in purple cloth, lies a small golden ring. I slip it onto my finger, lifting my hand to see the design. A ripe, round pomegranate is embossed on the shining band.

   If you love me, if you truly want to return to my side . . .

   A pomegranate, the seeds that will bring us together again and again and again. My heart overflows with joy and longing. Soon. I'll be back soon. . . .

   "I'd better be going," says Hermes. "Lots to do, I'm afraid. But I'll see you next—"

   "Wait!" I cry. "Can you carry something back for me?"

   He nods. I run over to the daffodils and gather a dozen stems. If only they were narcissus! I lay them in Hermes' arms. It's not enough! I snap off some rhododendron branches, now flowering, and add them to the pile, and then some twigs with leaves so new they're translucent, traced with veins like dragonfly wings, and—

   "Stop!" cries Hermes, peering over the top of the pile. "It's not like I have the chariot today. Maybe next time you'll think of something smaller to send."

   He takes off down the trail and disappears around a bend, leaving me alone again.

   I look down at my hand and the golden ring encircling my finger. I press it to my cheek, covering it with my other hand to hold it as close as I can.

   Not so alone, after all.