July 30, 2015
(If you are open to receiving
it, every day brings a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned
70.)
“Come, look—quick!” I was on the phone but David
insisted that I look at the light glow outside our house, right before the sun
would sink below the horizon. I knew it would last for only a few seconds
longer but I ran to get my camera and caught the light just as it was dropping
over the edge. There was no time to get a perfect magic photo but the feeling of
the moment seeped into my mind and stroked it. The red geranium and my new red
Yaris were glowing vibrantly while a unicorn in the flower box was soaking in
the joy of the glow.
This is the time of the day when, for a few seconds,
the sun seems to stand still and time is suspended for an infinite moment.
Shades of red melt and touch everything within sight, creating a fleeting
radiance. For a few seconds, time holds a knowing beyond thought and reason, a
knowing that you cannot go back and that before you give in to the darkness,
you must breathe the magic light of today. It is this breath that lights your
spirit and gives it a glow that sustains you.
We call it dusk but that word does not do the
feeling justice. The sun is setting but that phrase does not work either
because “setting” suggests an ending and, to me, this time of the day suggests
a beginning that touches everything that will come tomorrow.
My
gift today is a momentary glow.
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> Day 234: Secret Lives of Food You can find links to my other posts on this project here:
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