Connecting the Dots

An image is forming in my mind.    

I envision each day of life representing a numbered black dot in a child’s dot-to-dot book, a very thick one with continuous fold-out pages.  As the dots are connected, a journey emerges and a life story takes shape, dot by dot by dot, and page by page by page.  

It is evening now.  Dinner dishes are washed and returned to their places in the cupboard.  The TV’s muffled voice occasionally rumbles, hushed behind a closed door.  A spice-scented candle glows beside me.  I slouch in a chair at the table, hands lazily flopped on the keyboard, feet resting on two other chair seats beneath the tabletop.

My own breathing space.  Downtime. Finally.

I’m not sure what to think of today.  It seemed disconnected from yesterday and most recent days, a dot standing off to one side in the margin, away from the others. I felt “off” all day.  And yet surely there was purpose in it.

At last, in these evening hours, it is time to complete the line, to close the final distance between dots.  There.  In the blink of an eye it is finished! In this moment of closure, I suspect I can discern the picture that is currently emerging.  But it’s only an educated guess.  I really shouldn’t say.

The candle’s white flame flickers, animating the scene.  I remove my plunger-tipped hearing aids with relish – relief! Portable computer speakers amplify online piano music, and I turn up the volume to suit me (on this side of the closed door).  I train earlier thoughts - ones that tried to derail and dump me into ravines of fear of loss - to a different tune, a song of rest and hope and faith.  I breathe. 

All of these dots, today's included, are well-placed - not random or accidental.

The direction and distance to tomorrow’s dot is still uncertain – but tomorrow is another day. Perhaps the placement of that dot will confirm today’s suspicions about what is emerging, or perhaps it will lead to another unique conclusion.  I don’t know.  But I do know the dots will continue to connect on the fold-out pages until the end of the book.  Then the tale will be complete, and each dot will fit perfectly in the story that is my life.