heady in the streetlight

I feel my world slowly prodding along. Like a toddler's first footsteps, slow and measured. Nothing hurried, nothing too daring. Maybe because life was passing so quickly for so long, the contrast is striking. Slow and measured. In just a week all of my rhythms have changed.

I have to admit, I still feel the anxious energy of being a graduate student and teacher. How can it be that I can lie on the couch and read a book all Sunday afternoon? There must be work! I must be missing something. This is so...lazy.

But, no.  It's real. I drink in the slowly rolling hours. Relish the small tasks that punctuate my day. I work, still, five days a week. But the work is different. I come home with my mind still securely in my head, my heart still full, my energy still with me. Even in my work, I feel indulgent.

I was walking home late last Thursday night. I passed the laundromat, the coffee shop, the little bistro and the old church on the corner. I walked slowly once I reached my street, always a bit slowly after the long hill. I looked up, looked around and was struck by the streetlight filtering through the pink blossoms of a cherry tree and glinting off of a beautiful blue Dodge truck. I normally would not be taken by the sight of an automobile, regardless of engine size or paint job, but this was different. The contrast of colors, the richness of the blue and the pink, the single cone of light on an otherwise dark street. All of it came together so smoothly, so fittingly, it created a feeling much like that of a beautifully sung aria.  These moments capture me. When something so full, so bold, so haunting crosses before me that I can't help but pause and admire. I stood for a full minute before I was satisfied that I'd fully appreciated what the moment was worth. It passes, so quickly. If I walked past and then returned it would be different. Something in me met with something in that streetlight. I'm so thankful the time to be present is returning to me. I'm here, ready for life to take hold.