Imagine the darkest place you...
Illustration
Imagine the darkest place you have ever been.
A Child remembers holding the hand of a friend while playing Sardines one winter night when the house is entirely dark. My husband remembers night maneuvers in the army, when it was pitch black and you could hear others skirmishing, hear but could not see. A friend talks of walking down alleys in New York City long before the "high crime" yellow lights were part of the city nightscape. I have a childhood memory of reaching our weekend mountain cabin after dark on a Friday evening. One of us has to go to the spring deep in the woods to fetch the water for brushing our teeth and the morning coffee. I was terrified of the task. I took the old tin pitcher off the shelf in the kitchen, went outside, then set off slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark. Each step was carefully taken, feeling my way down the beaten path, trying not to think of black snakes or bears or brothers who relished the opportunity to frighten me by charging at me through the woods. I made my way one foot in front of the other through the dark of the mountain woods until I could hear the sound of the mountain spring and bent down to fill the pitcher. The return from the spring was the reverse, for the lamp was lit in the window of the little mountain cabin. So although the woods were as dark, and the path held the possibility of all the scary things, my eyes were set on the light, the light that shined in the darkness. -- Steffey Morrow
A Child remembers holding the hand of a friend while playing Sardines one winter night when the house is entirely dark. My husband remembers night maneuvers in the army, when it was pitch black and you could hear others skirmishing, hear but could not see. A friend talks of walking down alleys in New York City long before the "high crime" yellow lights were part of the city nightscape. I have a childhood memory of reaching our weekend mountain cabin after dark on a Friday evening. One of us has to go to the spring deep in the woods to fetch the water for brushing our teeth and the morning coffee. I was terrified of the task. I took the old tin pitcher off the shelf in the kitchen, went outside, then set off slowly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark. Each step was carefully taken, feeling my way down the beaten path, trying not to think of black snakes or bears or brothers who relished the opportunity to frighten me by charging at me through the woods. I made my way one foot in front of the other through the dark of the mountain woods until I could hear the sound of the mountain spring and bent down to fill the pitcher. The return from the spring was the reverse, for the lamp was lit in the window of the little mountain cabin. So although the woods were as dark, and the path held the possibility of all the scary things, my eyes were set on the light, the light that shined in the darkness. -- Steffey Morrow
