Twilight

The purplish gray light shines, welcoming twilight. Standing out on the back deck, we  see each other in a newly wedded ambient light. His hair shines. His eyes glow. He says, “I love twilight—not day and not quite night.” He sighs a sigh of contentment. Our eyes lock. We go into inside to be alone together. The light of love shines across the room. Our only commitment right now is to each other. Life is all about us; everything else can wait. We enjoy each other. The papers to grade can wait. Dinner can wait. We relish in our love. We relish in each other.

The purplish light shines, signaling twilight. Dang. I’m late again. Just leaving school after an afternoon of paperwork and yearbook. “I’m on my way, honey,” I say. He sighs a sigh of disappointment, “I’ve already fed the kids.” My papers couldn’t wait. Dinner couldn’t wait.

Twilight, a time of change. Twilight. I long for twilight. I long for a time to just be. A time without routine commitments. A time to languish in my love for my husband. A time to let go and be the lover, the wife, the person I should be. A time to be in a moment and let go of all other moments. Time passes. I miss twilight. I long for it, but I do little to seek it out. I am caught up in commitments and to dos and am letting go of the sacredness of a moment. A moment that passes too quickly.

The purplish gray light shines, signifying twilight—in the backyard I stand with the dog. The kids are inside. Mike is inside with them.  I look at the sky and think back to a time when twilight was freedom. Twilight was a time with no to dos, no commitments, no children. Twilight was a time when we were all that mattered…

Twilight with its forgiving light shining on me, gives me hope. I must find the light of twilight in all its sacredness of twilight, that light that shines so briefly and so beautifully, so sacredly.