Transcendence on a Misty Evening

As soon as I walked out of the hospital, I could feel it and so I chose to walk slowly, savoring every moment. My whole 0.7 mile walk to the subway station this evening was a mystical and transcendent thin place. It's chilly, misting droplets filling the air, and the twilight fading into the night. The softness of the air. The hum of a streetlight. The hint of the idea of an Autumn out of place. The sounds of children playing. The smells of dinners. The oddity of civic fireflies that flickered over green garbage cans and brownstones. A multitude of languages, cars whooshing by, bells on shop doors dinging the way in or the way out, music of all sorts coming from a distance down every street, the smell of fresh laundry, and an occasional breeze in the trees. I'm so grateful to have moments like this! Moments of satisfying joy, a twinge of sadness, a breath of excitement - Moments that fill me with inexplicable longing, yet fill me with this transitory life itself. I walked from the past, through the present, and touched the future tonight. Thanks be to God.

(Photo via google, but it grasps the feelings I had).