The Puddle at Night

Now I can find my way.

I used to be afraid of the dark, afraid of going blind. I have struggled to overcome that fear.

Once when I was a small child trying to find the bathroom, I became disoriented in the blackness of a moonless night. I remember the feeling of panic and my helplessness. My father had to rescue me, as I screamed in terror in the upstairs hall.

But since then, I have learned to find my way: I know to count my steps, move slowly with careful purpose, listen, feel. I am ready for the bramble that scratches my face, the wire that trips my leg, the stump that twists my ankle. I am at one with the dark that surrounds me: I feel the air on my neck, hear my own breath, the squish of my shoe in the mud. I have become dark, invisible even to myself.

I am not afraid.