Tuesday, January 14, 2025, 24* Dark. Still. Quiet.
Hadn’t moved. Hadn’t removed compression gloves, but as soon as I opened my eyes into darkness, not quite awake but getting there, the three began talking. How do they know I’m awake? I know dogs have better vision but two are in their room; and as far as I know, they can’t see through walls. Opening my eyes must be like turning on lights. This mystery I will not question. “Knowing” is a gift so much more than perception.
Not trapped in the rug, fragments, snow patterned like the sole of my shoe, balls of snow that fell from puppy pockets between their toes design the kitchen floor. I will wait for more energy, for the snow to stop, until my cup is empty before going out to rearrange it.
"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face:
now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."
1 Corinthians 13:12 (KJV)
Photo: LJ Austin
