Swallows and Lightning

Possibility is flickering through the air today, like swallows and lightning.

Today, the trees have broken out into green the colour of summer meadows and deep forests, of sunsets and misty mornings. The grass is new-washed and on its best behaviour. The sky is infinite colours of grey – soft and flat and clumsily patched – but its comfortable shabbiness is a welcome counterpoint to the sharp colours and clean lines of terra firma.

Today, I rode the bus downtown and watched fifty or more people – most alone, a few in pairs – as their day began. Most carried umbrellas and bags, some read books, others listened to music or tapped away on Blackberries or cellphones. As I stood there, I thought about how each of these strangers had their own unique story, their own reality apart from this brief collective space. And I thought about how each person brought their lives with them onto this bus and that, however ephemerally, we were now all connected.

Today, I began a class that showed me how to think about, and interact with, my world differently.

Today, I began a new book that opened a door to another world.

I drank green tea and ate freshly-made french fries with salt and vinegar.

It’s been a good day.