Walking Home

I had a strange experience walking home from work. It had just started to really get snowing, and as I walked back down North Avenue… I didn’t make any attempt to shield my face from the wind or snow. Instead, I ended up sorta holding my head up and occasionally looking skywards.

It was cold, but not in an uncomfortable, painful way. It was cold in a brisk, crisp, reassuring sort of way. I felt really good, happy to be alive and able to feel the sensation of a winter breeze. I thought about how many things I have to be thankful for and how lucky I am. I thought about being a younger kid, an undergrad in college, the kid who would smoke or take just about anything handed to him… just to have a similar appreciation. It was fairly crappy out, but I felt happy to be aware; I was happy to be experiencing the crappiness.

For the briefest of moments, walking home, every glass was filled. Everything I passed was lined with silver.