Friday, March 28, 2025, 28.4*
Somewhere on the floor, on this muted multi-color rug, somewhere under my desk a little football-shaped pill bounced from my hand (on the way to my mouth) providing a clue like the sound of a small pebble ringing a bell. Perhaps it hit the wooden bookcase or the base of the metal lamp; perhaps it rolled under the bookshelf, perhaps it sits on a shelf. Tiny white pill are you there with Zsolt’s hair under my desk? Are you taking a rest where dirt has fallen from my shoes? How shall I find you? For now, I just know you are somewhere.
Somewhere, as useful as replying you are going somewhere. Somewhere could be over the rainbow, at least in a song in the Wizard of Oz. Somewhere is full of freedom, no borders, no drawn lines. Somewhere is a disguise it’s a design for invisibility. Somewhere is a different place than where I am. Somewhere is the place lost things reside until they are found.
Soleil said good morning then went somewhere so others could find her. The snow had been somewhere, now it is here although we had not been looking for snow perhaps here is her somewhere. Somewhere there is no snow my son takes photos.
“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for.
Keep on seeking, and you will find.
Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you."
Matthew 7:7
Photo: Chris Austin
