We walked away from the registration table and headed for the white farmhouse.

Most of the crowd had gathered near the barn, leaving the house fairly quiet.

The porch steps needed a fresh coat of white paint.

Luke stopped three feet from the bottom step and stared up at the wooden boards.

A pile of brown leaves had collected in the far corner.

It was the exact spot where June used to keep her rocking chair.

“They took the metal hooks down from the ceiling,” Luke said.