By Michelle Webster-Hein

February 27, 2014


I read a story once about a woman who gives herself over to the night. She encounters no one, just sneaks outside, surveys the dark desert, and comes back changed.

I remember it sometimes after I have put the babe to bed and the sky has deepened to darkest blue. I step outside for a moment or two before tucking in--hear the skritch of crickets, the whispers of leaves; smell the damp earth and cooling air. Inexplicably, it feels rich to me but also regretful, tinged with something like sadness.

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