Shadows
It’s almost 3 am. I squint at my feet in the shower while hot water washes over me and notice a shadow within my shadow. I move back. One shadow. I move forward under the bathroom light and a darker shadow within my shadow appears. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? My shadow has a shadow. Surely this is a metaphor for the darker side of our inner nature? I shiver at the thought. I need to go to bed. I was fascinated by my own shadow when I was young. I remember one evening, in particular, running up and down my grandparents’ driveway, lit up by the white light of the full moon. I could see my night shadow. I befriended her. I even tried to outrun her. But she was my equal. She became my companion when everyone else went inside. I spoke to her. She was part of me. As I got older, different shadows came to visit me. Those night figures were not my friends. They would float from the dark hallway and glide over to me. They would lurk by my bedside and reach for my face. They scared me. So