A Small Light Can Do A Great Deal...

The trail past the old boathouse had always been one of Dorothy's favorites. Pretty much all the trails near Martin Lodge could be considered favorites. It helped that it was in the heart of the Adirondacks at the end of a long and winding dirt road. You could climb Bald Mountain after breakfast and still get back in time for dinner at the Main Lodge. She had been coming here for a week or two every summer with her family since she'd been 'knee-high to a chipmunk' as her aunt used to say. Now her cousin Jessie had brought her up for an early fall visit, "to get away from the city" she'd said.

No, I know Jessie, thought Dorothy, we both know. It'll probably be the last time I ever 'see' Martin Lodge. Well, I'm going to make every last second here count, even if it means going for a swim in my longjohns!

A now familiar cold, wet nose on her hand brought her out of her thoughts. Morgan had been a present from Jessie soon after they had learned of Dorothy's diagnosis. She hadn't wanted to accept that the damage to her eyesight was irreversible, let alone that she should learn how to work with a guide dog.