EPIPHANIES

Found a little something under the sofa this morning. Without dustbunnies, I might not have epiphanies, which are often associated with commonplace events. Therefore, it seems reasonable, when I'm gathering puffs of dog hair, for a voice to succinctly inform me: "it will be okay."

It was a very matter-of-fact voice.

A flood of relief, a realization: "this is faith." It's gravity, whooshing you down a playground slide. You decide if you climb back up, ride again.

Or sulk in sodden sand, lamenting what was too short, too thrilling.

The voices we hear while strangling ourselves are probably worth a listen.