This morning, as I sat drinking my coffee, I noticed the speckled light moving across the room. It landed on a porcelain bear that my husband had picked up at a garage sale, and cast an amazing shadow. A strong, angular bear, chiseled out of the ice on which it’s standing. A bear that looks a lot like the tattoo my husband had on his arm. A piece of art that I will never see again.
I continued to think about shadows as I walked out into the beautiful morning. We used to laugh at my old dog’s shadow because we thought her shadow looked like an ant-eater. My new pup, her shadow looks like some kind of mythical wolf. Fierce and fangy. I looked over at my shadow this morning, too. A long, lonely alliteration.
We are our shadow selves, are we not? Continue reading