b ~ When evening is spread out against the sky

For me last year was all about “focus,” trying to narrow down my
vision in order to actually see what was right in front of my eyes,
both literally and figuratively. This year I decided that my One
Little Word would be “light” and all its incantations. I wanted to
challenge myself to find the light in places that felt dark, damp and
musty. To know that when it looks muted, dusky and even in the
gloaming, there are still faint traces of light as it slowly then
suddenly disappears. I also crave this sense of feeling lighter,
shedding things I don’t need in order to move forward. I don’t know if
this will happen, but I read my Chinese horoscope on Monday and this
year looks promising. I figure I could use any and all of the
encouragement I can find.

After the blush of the new year falls off, I’m always left staring
straight on at the rest of winter, wishing that the days were longer.
The cold doesn’t really bother me, but the neverending gray sky tends
to dull my senses. A tiny spot of blue is reason enough for
celebration, or a spontaneous jig. Each day I silently urge and coax
the sun to come out and stick around. How does one bait a trap for the
sun? Somehow I don’t think peanut butter is what’s called for here.
Even though we continue to incrementally add a bit of daylight, the
evening still comes too soon for me. As much as I welcome the end of
each day and the calmness that settles over the house, as well as the
piling of blankets, the snuggling down deep as we bury our noses in
the pages of a book, I still miss the longer days and the energy I
seem to have when the light fills the sky for a greater length of
time. I yearn for the light that spills over onto everything making it
seem golden and incandescent. It will be that way again, I know. Until
then I search and I seek, I find light where I least expect it.

The other night as I was coming out of a store, I saw a sherbet
colored sky. I ran to get my camera and snapped shot after shot,
hoping for something. On the way back to the car I saw a man and a
woman holding hands. He nodded at me like a co-conspirator and said
“Don’t capture many like that one.” I nodded back in agreement, then
turned to have one last look, but it was gone–faded away into a
nothingness. (Goodnight nobody, Goodnight mush.) Somehow I happened to
be at the right place to witness an extraordinary sky. Colors painted
as if by an unseen hand, then hastily erased. But for me what was
truly amazing was this man and woman walking by, talking to me, a
complete stranger. Forster’s “Only Connect” ran through my mind and I
was immediately grateful for the experience, the circumstance that
brought us together in that moment. The evening spread out across the
sky was for that instant more beautiful than anything you could
imagine.

~b