I have a date with my friend Amy, and I’m uncharacteristically early.
Not that I mind; it’s a gorgeous evening along the banks of the Mississippi. If not for the steady stream of cars going by, I might well imagine that I was up north.
The air is crisp and the trees’ shadows are growing long, casting their gray filigree onto the pavement. The golden sunlight on the river and the thousand crickets’ songs are intoxicating.
Yet, to my amazement, no one else seems to notice.
There are plenty of people out running tonight, and dozens of bikers—but most of them wear the pained expression of a soul sentenced to hell.
But not me. I treasure evenings like this.There’s a palpable sense that this beauty is fleeting, and that winter will soon be here.
And somehow, that realization makes this evening even more splendid.