It echoes through the atmosphere, slipping through shadows that too often hoard our attention— the shine of a heart amidst pain, that pinprick of light through a chink in the mortar of a brick wall, that smile in passing, that squeeze obscured in a handshake.
There is much light in this world, but sometimes it lies shattered, at other times is one sure beam that lights up the day— that one brilliant sword of light slashing gray clouds.
We are not always aided in our seeking, yet must be vigilant in our search, shifting our glance again and again to where it lies scattered through the murkiest days.
As I was taking the picture of the sconces outside, in the dark, I was breaking off the bougainvillea vines that grew in front of them, sticking myself on the thorns, as usual. Then I felt a sharp sting on my forearm and called out to Judy (a visiting writer who is doing a retablo workshop with me at my house) that I was stung by something. Then I felt a very sharp sting on my leg, under my Levis. I grabbed the place and squeezed the material of my Levis, running into the house, trying to get my shoes off and my jeans pulled down. “It’s stinging me, it’s stinging me!” I said.
“What do I do?” Judy shouted.
“Pull my pants down!” I ordered. She did and I held on to the bundle I imagined inside the jeans–hoping it wasn’t the notorious and very poisonous Donald Trump caterpillar that has been discovered locally. When I opened my fingers, there was instead a black wasp inside. How he got inside my jeans I’ll never know. Perhaps he fell off my arm when I received the first sting, fell to the ground and flew up my Levis in an attempt to get away. At any rate, the stings hurt like Hell. I ran to the bathroom, wet my wounds and sprinkled on meat tenderizer which helped to counteract the worst stinging, although my arm and leg are still swollen and tender to the touch. How I suffer for my blog!!!