Sunset

Louise prepared two simple meals at sunset; one for herself and one for the stray (who would not come close). She ate slowly, back in the shadows of the porch, simultaneously soaking her feet to relieve her pains and rid herself of all paths she had walked before. "It was a day," Louise whispered to the little face that had slipped out of the gathering shadows (and was eating quickly, head sideways, keeping one eye on her at all times). "And here we are, my friend, at the loose edge of it - recycling all that the world can use." She breathed it in - everything from the 13th day that was passed over as unremarkable, left behind as too little and too late, answers to prayers uncollected, spectacular transformations hidden in common, ordinary things. Always tempted to keep something, Louise chided herself and pushed it through ... to family, to friends, to total strangers, and to parts of the world that she read about in the news. "Don't give up," she whispered. "Don't you dare give up." When she roused herself, the stray had gone (leaving a clean plate); she retrieved it and moved slowly into the house (and back into ordinary time). She felt heavy, sluggish, and a little embarrassed at her process of trying to channel miracles. "Gotta wonder at the cheek of it," Louise sighed, sitting down in front of the telly. "Me, playing the part of a bright light in the world." The stray peeked in, grateful for and in awe of the woman he could see through the window - the one glowing with the brightness of a star (a wonder in her own right).