Moments in the Sun

This morning I was rushing out the door with a little more than an hour to run a set of errands before my next call for work started. With the front door of the house no more than 6 feet behind me, I stopped dead in my tracks for a moment.

The late Fall sunlight was streaming through the trees, casting long shadows across the yards and catching the morning dew on the front lawn grass, creating a field of morning stars. The temperature was in the mid-forties and steam rose from the peaks of my next door neighbor's house. It was quiet, apart from distant traffic that created a steady rushing sound; more like a low ocean shore or the sound wind makes when blowing through the evergreens on a mountaintop. It was a Moment.

I wrestled on what to do--keep going to the car and get my errands wrapped up or stay on the front porch to absorb the Moment for all it was worth?

Instead I ran back inside the house and called my wife and daughter to join me. "Just come out front!," I urged them.

My wife joined me back on the porch. The daughter unit made it as far as the point where the house heat stops and the cool air started before voting with her feet back inside. Not even the dog would venture outside. Don't get me started on the cat.

So my wife and I stood there in the morning Moment. No talking, all sensing. After a few seconds, I decided it to be photo-worthy.

Within two photos the Moment was gone. We were still there, as was the cool air, trees, houses, morning dew-laden grass, but the sunshine had faded behind thickening clouds. And with that, I bade the wife goodbye and sprinted out to the car, Moment behind, but still in my memory.