Saturday, August 28, 2010

Some Days, I Am Very Aware Of The Light ...

Yesterday, I was driving home, eastward. The sun was in the middle of the sky behind me, shining late-afternoon, late-summer light, and as I was on a road bordered by a lot of trees, my mind was suddenly filled with images of the summers of my youth. And I thought how lovely it would be, right then, to be a kid again, to have spent the day in and out of the lake, padding around in bare feet, wrapped in a beach towel, completely unconcerned with the ways of the world because, at that age, concern was the purview of my parents.

And how, at that hour, some moms somewhere were hopefully busying themselves pulling together the components of an easy dinner while some dads manned a grill, one flipping burgers while the other nursed a bottle of beer. Paper plates and lemonade and thick wedges of watermelon for dessert.

All of that brought to mind by light.

Which then brought to mind the time I was on my way back to the city and it was mostly cloudy but for a moment, the sun broke through, but in such a way that everything around me, looked like a painting, so saturated and vivid, almost surreal. It didn't last long, that light. The clouds doused it too soon. But for a moment, it was like driving through a dream.

And in the mornings now, the sun filters through the trees in my front yard and through my living-room window and through the stained-glass window that hangs inside it and through the antique lace curtains that were my grandmother's – or were they her mother's? – that cast the most lovely shadows on the far wall.

The curtains feature a floral pattern in their weave, but the pattern is very open, lots of vines with occasional blooms that look like clematis. Outside, the locust trees flutter in the breeze. And all of the shadows combine beautifully on the wall and I wish I could capture it properly in a picture and have it forever.


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