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Memorial Brick WalkEach morning the dogs and I step lightly when we cross the memorial pathway leading to the beach.  Walkway or not, to me it is a sacred place and the three of us stretch left and right and forward like children playing an awkward, slow-motion hopscotch.  Selah, still learning this tender pace, does more of a leap, slide, and pounce. But it occurs to me that she could very well be playing with little souls, so I lighten my hold and let it be.

I woke up today feeling like a novice at life. In my dream a man asked: “How long have you been who you are?” I was terrified and oddly embarrassed and I barely knew what to say because there, in my dream, I was not sure if this was my first attempt at being or if I’m still waiting to begin. I answered: “Not long enough to be perfect at it.”

Still restless and drowsy from the dream, I was arguing with fear when a bit of rising sun sparkled off a memorial stone. We all stopped.  Selah dropped, Spike sat and I read:

 6/24/1968 ‘—‘ 2/1/2011.

For Sam. Loving husband, father, and son.

He lived his dash.

I don’t think any of us have time to waste not “living our dash” because we are afraid we won’t be perfect at it.

Grace really does meet us exactly where we are.

And there is magic here for all of us, in that moment when light begins.

Lynnette Bukowski © 2013