I am at the old house in the Texas Hill Country west of Austin where so many of the experiences I related in the Secret School took place. It is as sweet a night as Texas has to offer, softly touched by moonlight, graced by a cool south breeze. Half an hour ago, there were three familiar cries out in the dark, and I think that, after all these years, the visitors might be near me again.
Once, I would have been afraid. No longer. Not that I don’t think that they can be dangerous, but rather that I am surrendered to the unknown. I have never known what they are. Aliens, perhaps. Equally possible, it seems to me, that they are us dancing with itself in some way that we can barely even begin to understand.