The other night at dinner
Eileen tells us that her great
aunt would play piano for silent
movies. Something in this won’t
let me go. Perhaps it’s the image
of someone playing music in the
dark while we watch others like
us meet life in silence. It makes
me think of a caveman drumming
a stone with a stick while his brother
draws his bow but fails to shoot be-
cause he loses himself in the bison
grazing. Perhaps the playing of
images in the dark and the play-
ing of music while we watch is all
to keep us from shooting. I think
the brother who loses himself and
Eileen’s aunt playing Brahms in the
dark are of the same tribe. Last night
we went next door for a glass of wine
with Stacy and Anders and their blind
collie Kai broke my heart open a little
further. He noses gently about every-
thing and watching him find his way
about the yard in the late sun feels
like you and me when we put down
our masks. Only when we rush do
we bump and break things. Kai’s
soft, wide eyes search in their dark-
ness for the shelf of late light and
finding something, he rests his head
in the open air, in the warm hand
of eternity, feeling safe in a light
he can’t see.