Three Thirty In the Morning

I walk in the company of cats. They are the ones who know this time, the time when all things are possible because space and possibility walk with us in the dark. For this moment, I rise above the pulsing pain after strapping on the ice packs on my thigh and back. Once settled I can travel to where the mind takes me until I again return to the subject at hand, the little daggers that hold my attention hostage. I remember bio luminescence behind a sailboat that I worked on off the coast of Central America. It was my watch and the seas were calm as I held the course for Punta Arenas in Costa Rica. I remember my hundred-dollar pickup truck heading west to Colorado with skis on the roof, tips gently dancing in the wind. I remember the shock of diving into Lake Superior on a solo backpacking trip to Isle Royale. I taste the time left to me and lean into it. A train plays a mournful song to the waning moon. Who will you see today, pilgrim? What will you carry with you from this moment outside your habits and routines? How will you trace the story waiting for you to tell? Will you be able and willing to part the screen of distraction to see and embrace this moment and whatever it holds?