The old rocking chair out on the porch was moving very gently in the breeze; I could hear it moving behind me. The light was glittering off the lake’s rippled surface, warming my face. The light, like molten gold, trickled into my eyes and somehow calmed my soul.
I had been out at the lake for three days, and I had spent most of it sleeping, but that morning I had awoken feeling fresh and rested for the first time in weeks, and the sun was coming up. There in the April morning all of my troubles melted away; yet in the back of my mind I knew it was respite at best.
Kirsty had been gone for just over a month and I still found myself talking to her over my shoulder, noticing a TV show in the paper that would interest her or just including her in my thinking when something moved me;
“Look at that sunrise, baby. Oh how I wish you could see this.”
On the treeline I heard a noise, and turning to look I saw that a young doe was staring right at me, her deep black eyes shining in the morning light, like obsidian mirrors.
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