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Wondering about the shadow's voice, and mine

Wondering about the shadow's voice, and mine

Posted By Sunny Lockwood

One morning last week, I had to leave before it was light out.

I left as quietly as possible, so that Sweetheart could continue sleeping.

When I carefully closed our front door, and walked down our steps, the beauty of the night (or early morning) sky took my breath away.

Little puffs of clouds glowed pale gray against the blackness, backlit by a bright white sliver of a moon. When the moon sliced through the moving clouds, it would light up the sky, then the clouds would cover it again, glowing and blowing by, turning the dark bowl overhead into a strangely beautiful painting, changing itself moment by moment.

I stood transfixed, feeling so lucky to live in the midst of such beauty.

Then I lowered my gaze and turned toward the garage. As I reached the cement step just in front of the garage door, I saw a small shadow sort of flow off into the surrounding weeds and heard a tiny, almost indecipherable squeak.

Was that a cry for help? A cry of fear? A squeak of protest? What was the creature who owned such a tiny voice?

I didn’t know. The shadow looked small, round and soft edged as it left the step just before my foot arrived. Whatever the creature, it was definitely not a mouse; no scratchy tail followed the shadow. But what could it have been?

I opened the door and turned on the light, but could see no animal.

What small life form had removed itself from my path and then uttered that soft squeak? It was the voice, of course, that caught me and made me stop and think about whatever I’d displaced. And wonder.

I was to that beautiful, cloud covered sky as small and insignificant as the little shadow on the doorstep was to me. And yet my heart thrilled at the beauty I observed above.

I wonder if the little creature, trying to get out of my way, was also appreciating the sky that morning. And was unhappy that it had to move for me.

Could it be that when I curse the fates, or pray for help, I sound to God like that little shadow sounded to me? Could my tiny voice sound like a soft squeak in our big universe? A squeak that raises curiosity and concern from some larger, more advanced intelligence? I wonder.


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