In the world in which I live, there are no accidents. There is purpose and meaning in the slightest crossings.
Last night I dreamed of Nancy nudging her chubby cheeks along the edge of my shoe. And that was no small gesture. Even in dreams...even from animals...there is meaning in the message.
And in my waking life, I find pieces of myself in the scurrying lizard who habitually hides under our garbage bin. Each week as I move the bin, I scold the lizard, "Lizard, don't you know there is no safety in a wheeled monster of plastic?" And as the lizard wiggles his way along the pavement, looking for permanent shelter, he grumbles back at me, "Woman, don't you know there is no safety in a roofed cage of stucco and glass?"
T.
