Sunlight

The afternoon is later than it feels. The sky becomes a sunsetting yellow. The kind of color a cowboy would have to walk toward. The window above my head opens, and Lee calls out to me that some game is on. I look toward the door where, always one second ahead, there is the possibility of myself. I think, Don't hurry. I stand slow. But don't wait.

That is how life goes—we send our children into the wilderness. Some of them on the day they are born, it seems, for all the help we can give them. Some of them seem to be a kind of wilderness unto themselves. But there must be angels there, too, and springs of water. Even that wilderness, the very habitation of jackals, is the Lord's. I need to