baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Down Shift I am infatuated with Saturday afternoons alone. Today is the day when I notice the grass swinging with the breeze and the shadows moving from sidewalk crack to sidewalk crack. I miss these mundane details in the rush of life-and feel fortunate when time lets me loose from its leash and allows me the luxury of the moment. And, with the exception of the cars rushing by and the lackadaisical strides of neighbors walking their pets, I am comfortably planted in the middle of solitude. Oddly enough, She deserves the credit for this appreciation. Because, before her, I would run over these details like driveway dust--rushing off to some other obligation or some other paid-by-the-hour moment. She's in tune with the silly minutia of life-those things that are simply there to be enjoyed and no more. Like the sky. The golden light of sunset. The sway of the leaves. The sound of the crow. She's the one who stops me mid-stride and says, "Look. Pay attention. This is far better than where you're going." Before her, Saturday afternoons alone were never quite as magical. And neither were the other days of the week. 1:13 p.m. - 2002-06-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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