On the Edges

Time slows on a warm spring afternoon and it feels like you are on the edge of something.

You look up and look out. You listen to nothing and everything.

A bird trilling its same tune for the thousandth time. A windchime responding to a brief gust of wind. A plane somewhere so far overhead it cannot be seen but only heard.

Then all falls silent, or the sounds continue but you are outside of them and beyond them, still on the edge of something or perhaps beyond it.

And perhaps the slowing of time that you feel is nothing more than the drop in sugar rushing through your bloodstream or the fact that your afternoon coffee has not yet kicked in. Maybe it’s hormones or the fact that you have not had a few moments to yourself all day until now.

You hear a car speeding past somewhere on the main road a few blocks away and you know you will have to speed up also. Step back into time and into the day. Fold a load of laundry. Wash the rice and set it on the stove. Toss a salad.

Walk the dog. Water the lawn. Check if the kids have finished their homework.

The bird trills once more and the warmish breeze sets the chimes singing. You breathe deeply at the wonder of it all. At the grace you find on the edges of this time.