The other night the husband and I found ourselves in Moab, Utha, on a barge on the river at dusk, with a boatload of tourists, primarily from Europe. As night fell, the chatter ceased, and the show began. A recording listed the creation myths from all over the world, as great shafts of light were cast on the magnificent towering cliffs. Shadows awoke. Bats, too. The river murmured of movement and range. The Ute stirred from the deep. There we were, gnawing at the hems of the gods. It is only in the dark the stars blink, link to link. All the universe was dark, beautiful, mysterious.
Afterwards, in the car, tears still rolling down our cheeks, I turned to the old man and said, my gawd, during that entire fit of laughter, I did not experience any pain -- first time in months.
I settled comfortably back into my little maladies.