Last night on the couch, Tess tucked her feet beneath my legs. Zeus was asleep between us. Our owl was calling from the woods.
I wanted nothing but for nothing to change. I wanted nothing to change and for nothing to change to be my reward for faith, for insistence, for staying alive, for fighting so hard against the dark, for surrendering, for seeking out that other thing, which is neither tar nor bird, which is neither beast nor object, which is beauty, which is love.
I wished for nothing to change, but if wishes were horses, Joey Boy, beggars would ride, and the night went on and on toward morning, and now as I sit here writing one last time, I see Tess at the edge of the clearing, her back to the house, Zeus panting at her side.
She is out there looking into the forest at something I cannot see.