October 23 — Four deer in the present
“Stop, stop!” Kristyn whispered urgently.
I slowed her car to a standstill. To our right four deer stood in the field that lay between Osprey Point and Ward’s house. The girls rolled down the windows and stared. I caught my breath. The deer looked back at us. For a minute neither party moved.
Kristyn pulled out her phone to take a picture. Immediately I became self-conscious of our place and time. As this consciousness dawned on me it tore me in two — splitting me between the future and the present gaze being shared between living creatures. The day was growing late. Dinner was about to start.
I fought to get back to the gaze. I rolled down my window, letting the cold wind flow through and suck us into the world at large. The moment came in and out of focus. The present was blinking at me through the eyes of the deer — there and gone with an eyelid, darting through my head.
All the while the deer just stared, honoring their Maker simply by being. Then they turned and loped slowly down the field. I looked back and forth from the field on our right to the bay on our left, looking for revelation and trying to feel something, all while contemplating whether to put the car back in drive.