January 11th, just as the day officially began, I caught my third mouse, small and frail. These mice sneak into my kitchen at night for food and warmth. My actions led to their demise. I spoke with the night watch as they removed the dead body from under my kitchen sink. A simple task made difficult as I think about the small creature suddenly coming alive. Night watch warns with his tired raspy voice "this has been a problem for a long while--well forever... we used to trap the mice and set them free but they always just returned to the house to find refuge from the cold. Now, the best thing is to get rid of them and be done with it." "These mice will take over your life if you let them." I nod in agreement as he reaches into his pocket removing a brown paper towel, a loose-fitting coffin for the mouse's remains. My dear friends sit in the living room just off to the side of the action. I make my peace with the situation and continue to write a paper on
Little Whispers Across the Vast Ocean