We toiled in the "garden" most of the week. We finished our planting yesterday, and I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and peace. I found myself staring heavenward, savoring every second of stillness I could. I was fleetingly happy in every true sense of the word. When the Little started asking over and over what I was looking at in the sky the stillness slipped away. I was no less happy while trying to explain to the three year old that I was happy just to be alive. I think she must always be happy to be alive, because she doesn't know of any other way to be. There is no waiting for the other shoe to drop, no real fears or self doubt. She just...is. I don't know that you reach a more pure state than the state of just being. I envy her innocence.
I found myself feeling still for the rest of the day. Not overly happy, not overly sad. Just still. Waiting to see which way the pendulum will swing. I walked outside after dinner and saw the most stunningly eerie sunset. Dark black rain clouds fighting for coveted sky space with the pink of the setting sun. I often feel this way. Always the blackness hovers, waiting to dump buckets of rain on my little, simple parade. But always the pink simplicity of a setting sun beckons me to believe in the grandness of life.
This is the magic of twilight to me. Shadows and light playing peek a boo, mere seconds hanging in the balance as day fades into night. One second brilliantly bright, the next inky darkness. But oh the beauty of the magic in between.
