Friday Afternoon

I walked with a slow pace, exhibiting a purposeful lack of intent, through the final turn of my walk home, succeeding in every breath to smell the comforting scent of the wet pavement.

The sky was brightened just enough by the sun penetrating through the clouds like an old worn out grey cotton blanket.

I scanned the ground ahead, trying to predict my next five steps or so, as to not trip or crash into something. When I was ready, I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath of the world around me, as though each ounce of air was a dose of spiritual elixir. Not trusting my judgement I opened my eyes again only to notice I was unlikely to bump into anything at all.

I slowed my pace even more.

Off in the distance I heard the growl of the city and the droning hum of moving vehicles. With so much going on at that very moment, I could see the value of my location — undisturbed, unadulterated. It was solace and sanctuary. It was mine and only mine. That tiny place. That very spot.

Those moments are the sugar that make life sweet. The salt that makes it savory.

I’ll be sure to find it again, hopefully sooner than later.

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