Dark Spot - The Trilogy of Ds

An asteroid swung by today but didn't stop. Doubt, dread and death -- the constant and certain trilogy -- swing through in orbit, usually so distant but so often distracting my focus. Even when the view is perfectly clear, I manage to miss it by trying to see what is behind it.

A friend, not that close and across the bay, died earlier this month, the news not arriving until yesterday, grinding in the reality of the relative distance. He was one of the first people I met when I moved here. The intent to get to know him better was always there but clearly not the will, always stymied midway between here and wherever he is now.

Lately I've been sweeping out remnants of people long departed from my household. They're so long removed that the ghosts put up no fight to leave, yet I manage to waste too much time wrestling with them in a battle they have no interest in winning but still manage to pin me to the floor.

There is always a dark spot, a straying asteroid to leave a threat or a temporary blemish that will fade and leave the slightest scar, visible only in the most intense light under the gaze of a judgmental star. It seems only my own gaze passes such judgment these days, using eyeglasses that are not even mine.

Now they say the asteroid that hit Siberia a century ago wasn't nearly as large as they once believed, but it proves that even the smallest object can cause great damage. Today's dark spots, large and small, are already spinning away. So why do I dread even the smallest pebble in the darkness, knowing its capacity to pierce and destroy? Having wrestled ghosts and swept them away lately, I can, amazingly, see the horizon that I longed for before they even arrived. None of those brilliant hues have faded, and they feels closer, no pebbles in view for the moment.