Night Lights

Well, here we are. You might say that I've hit that point where the blog-urges have gotten the better of me. I've wanted to write for a while, but it's been hard finding a time to devote to it. What, with trying to get ahead on schoolwork only to keep up with everything else. But those moments where you don't think about all of that everything else are so precious. Sometimes, getting past the guilt of "wasting time" is the hardest part...but it's also the necessary part. I don't think a lot of us realize how important those moments are.

Let me take you into my world for a little.

Lamp Post by Joyce Ann Burton-Sousa

The metal is cold in your hand as you open the door. As you take your first step outside, you hold your breath in case the night air is as chilly as you remember. The sidewalk is still darker than usual from the constant mist that has been shivering in the air all day. It's like walking in a cloud; you can almost see the droplets suspended in the air. And it's beautiful. You let out your breath as the coldness creeps to your nose and ears. They're always the first to go. In the darkness and the dampness, the greens of the grass and the leaves on the trees look almost black. The cement glistens faintly. The bricks of the building around you glow from the lights posted down the path. In the middle of the sidewalk, there are two consecutive, canal-like structures that cradle a reservoir of water. In the daylight, it's nothing special. The leaves and dust and rocks that have been swept into it are blatant. The water isn't cleaned or filtered...it's just ordinary water. But at night, the water is wondrously black, just like the sky. The reflections of the lights dance in its wetness as the wind stirs or the mist drops kiss the surface. And it's beautiful. You walk on the ledge of the canals, balancing between the sidewalk and the shivery plunge. You listen to the click-clack of your shoes as the wind whispers past your ears. Ahead, you can see a square fountain, bubbling up with glittering water, shooting in unequal spurts from the plastic pumps. The gleam of the night lights works magic on the little fountain too. And it's beautiful. The ordinary world is changed in that moment, in that place, in your eyes. And it's beautiful.

That little place always makes me feel like I'm alive, like I'm not really caught in the drudgery of a noisy agenda. Here's to the moments and the places that make you feel like more than you've made yourself out to be.

A beautiful thing never gives so much pain as does failing to hear and see it. -Michelangelo