I awoke this morning at five, lying on my back in bed, hands clasped tightly under my chin like some anxious child in prayer.
I heard Buck’s breathing; a gentle percussive sound on inhalation; the hint of tender endearments in each exhalation.
My hands relaxed.
For half an hour, I listened, remembered the night’s rich tapestry of dreams, and then awoke fully with the fresh cold water of an epiphany. Feet on the floor, I slipped from the room, smiling.