Full Dark

Come the end of the day, I sat on the front steps and watched the sky turn dim to dark. Streetlights came on, then front porch lights, then the insides of the houses began to light up. It's hard to find your way in the dark. The evening was very warm for so close to December - the neighborhood cats were on the prowl, the neighborhood children were making their slow ways home to supper, and I could hear neighborhood dogs in the distance - they howled at the lack of the light, lonely and solitary sounds that carried clearly on the still air. Full dark had come with a remarkable quickness. It's a time for dreams and nightmares, for lovers that shouldn't be, for things better done in the dark. Sometimes the night is so black, it's hard to imagine that there will ever be light again.

Yellow lights came from my own house and the animals were restless. For them, the dark signals feeding time and they pace and cry as if they've never eaten. I often lose patience with them as their impatience gets in the way as I try to arrange food dishes and open cans. They are underfoot and in the way, anxious for me to provide in a "me first" kind of way, indifferent to any needs but their own. The small dog sits quietly, knowing I'll get to her, while the black dog races around in a frenzy of anticipation.

Once fed, the dogs and I go outside to the backyard. I sit on the deck and wait for them. The stars are out and it feels like rain. There is always light somewhere, waiting to come 'round again.