We had taken a machete to the curtains and gained our light.
We do battle like this not to gain the light but to do the battle and have the
light. Picking your hand up off the steering wheel to reposition your glasses,
you had told me that you didn’t believe that dreams held any ominous
meaning or that they really said much of anything about anything. You had
said something about my father, I forget what, maybe it was that he was
alive and that I had better not forget to call him, because today, this day with
our cut-through light, our light for the taking, was my father’s birthday and
he would be expecting to hear from me.