It is that time of day to night that brings a sudden calm to the sky, a feeling of cessation to the busy day, moments of flame, azure purple, and crimson gold. It is a time of feeling confused as my eyes try to adjust to the fading natural light and headlights seem to pierce my very soul. Half-blind; half-sighted–climbing Nathan’s hill in a mad juggle with everyone else going home from work or errands. Sometimes it seems as if I will not survive this time of evening’s emergence. Tired, older eyes begin to play tricks upon the brain–scattering the rays of traffic lights in many directions, causing straight to appear curved, and curved to appear straight. I avoid driving at this time, especially in winter, preferring to be a passenger while warmth seeps out of the vents and curls itself in tendrils around my ankles.

 Then, eyes closed, I talk to God about many things–the beautiful day and its accomplishments, its many treasures, about love so real that it is tangible. As He speaks to my spirit I feel a gentle peace wash over me as dreams and goals become closer to fruition–as impossibilities seem possible. I am made of a different thread–spun into a garment of wonder and naive joy. No politician’s inclination here–this heart embraces everyone. I often wonder if what I see in me is what others see. Am I viewing a different person than other’s view? It is hard to discern the hearts and minds of others as I journey far and wide, oftentimes without taking a step. As I lie abed thousands of miles away from those I love–while other loved ones are so close they can be touched. Does this make the love less real? The distance?  Spirit knows no distance–love knows no boundaries. Twilight is where I now live. I am no longer in the sunshine of youth, nor am I approaching the dark of midnight. I live in that in-between place that is sacred and sure. I have seen many things as my journey has progressed. I dwell at the mountain’s top, starting to descend on the other side–a full day’s journey still ahead of me.

 credit: chaelwest@charlene’sattic.com