Twilight's Offering

There was a moment yesterday when joy - I think it was joy - welled up high in me and rang the bell. For a few tender moments my emotions floated freely, positively, my mind found center and lingered there, my spirit somehow understood that in the end everything is going to be okay. One way or another.

Occurring in the kitchen - don't most epiphanies happen there? - my moment of serenity surprised me offering a satisfying eye-closing, shoulder-lifting moment to my somewhat wearified soul. The kids were contentedly slicing long, French sandwich buns, passing around the tasty deli meats and cheeses, sharing, pouring fresh milk for one another all around the extended cutting board where delicious sandwich concoctions are occasionally created.

We were relaxed. Even Tom, the resident hyper-human, bore a soothing countenance as he leaned against the counter waiting his turn, arms and legs casually crossed. No hurry.

Visible outside the nearby kitchen window a sky-filling bank of heavy, nearly black storm clouds rolled and gleamed as twilight began overtaking the sky. Imminent rain's scent seeped through the screen, flavoring the air. Intoxicating aroma.

Another day's work accomplished ahead of a storm. Supper earned, rest deserved. Activity replaced with tranquility.

For those brief moments and for the evening to follow life's trials left me alone. Relieved. Refreshed. Refocused.

I slept well last night in our new room. Burdens found other far-away shoulders to stoop, or maybe they dissipated into the storm clouds to drip gentle rain over the garden this morning.

I'll take it; the cessation of bedevilment. The rain. The quiet.

The gentle reminder that for those who would seek her, notice her, feel her, illumination's refreshment can be known.