In the morning I lace up my running shoes as the first light appears on the far horizon, the red of it spreading like pancake batter. Last night Jack told me which would be the best way to run. I leave my watch behind. The house is quiet, and our glasses from the night before are crowded beside the sink, ringed with red wine stains and lipstick marks. I find a clean glass and drink; the water comes from their rainwater tanks and the cold travels down into my chest. I walk down the driveway from the house. The smallest kelpie, Friday, is at my heels. ‘She’s likely to follow you,’ Jack had warned me, ‘but you can tie her up if it bothers you.’

She looks at me with amber eyes, pleading. ‘Okay,’ I say, ‘you can come.’

I latch the gate behind us and together we run up the steep driveway to the edge of the property, past the paddocks of cows heading to the sheds to be milked, the grass shimmering with dew. My legs burn with the steep climb and my heart thuds.

I slip through the last gate and Friday bounds out with me, her paws hardly touching the rocky clay beneath. We run along the dirt road as the sun slowly rises, and unfamiliar birds call out in the trees above. There are grey-green leaves, trunks of silver-white and mottled grey. Light pierces the canopy, flashing across my vision. The breeze makes the trees rustle and sway. Ahead of me Friday leaps in and out of the underbrush, chasing invisible wallabies, birds, kangaroos. I think of Grandma last night, out beneath the stars, and how hard it is to align memory with the past, how you imagined the world with how it has changed.

The trees stop then for a strip of power lines and everything converges into a field of light, blazing like fire. So bright that I cannot look away. I stop and stare at the open fields either side of me, the lines above buzzing with life. I call Friday and we turn back in the direction we came. Her tongue hangs pink from her open mouth and her eyes stay fixed on me as she careens past.

There is so much trust in her gaze. So much she seems to think I can do.

I follow her home, the wind whistling me through. With each breath I let the world in.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS