Last night, Daniel and I went for our evening walk. The air was sultry and warm, and sunlight was beginning to fade into dark. We walked around the circle of our subdivision, talking. We stopped at a neighbor's house where their dog was napping in the driveway. His name is Axel, and I called to him, like I often do when we walk by. He woke and squinted at us, and he started to make a sound, the low gutteral beginnings of a warning growl or bark. But then recognition set in, and he lumbered over, his sweet face full of silent greeting. He let me pet him, then Daniel. After a moment, we resumed our walk, leaving Axel watching us go.
Further along, my thoughts and our conversation turned to troubling things. Family issues and conflict, the difficulty of dealing with someone I love but find it more and more difficult to tolerate. I am a solution-oriented person, and in situations like this, when the solution is out of my control, I feel trapped. Defeated and heartsore, like hope for any real resolution or improvement is as faint and flimsy as the tiny flickering winks of fireflies along the sidewalk.
After two laps around the neighborhood, I was warm and weary. The last remnant of daylight still remained as I walked out of the humid Summer evening and into the air-conditioned cool home Daniel and I share. I said to him, "I just want peace." A simple desire that sometimes seems impossible to acquire.
Copyright 2009 Melissa LaFavers