pure promise

Because there'll be a moment a few short weeks down the road, when you'll be hit with a wave of happiness that rips your breath away and leaves you wide-eyed and wondering. Walking down Broadway, just past sunset. The shops still open, glaring fluorescent light and racks of t-shirts spilling out onto the sidewalk. Rush hour pedestrians file past, some catching buses, some catching your eye since it seems like everyone feels it - the high of this November chill, finally, the holidays around the corner and optimism seeping out of our pores in spite of ourselves.

In spite of our uglier natures, our jealousies, petty rivalries, insecurities and rootless anxiety, we all get moments like this. Joy grips your soul, your best friend by your side. He knows the scents and sounds and his prancing gait suggests your mood has infected him, too. And you don't want to go home. You want to stay out in the busy streets, the comforting bustle you've missed for months. So you'll roam, Youth Lagoon on an endless loop, using the dog as an excuse to stay out later than you should, because there are things to be done. There is progress to be made.

But it's intoxicating, the simplicity of just this single, amazing hour of your life. You're alive and well and healthy enough - and you're in love, shamelessly, with no reservations, no "if onlys" to hold you back this time. It's wide open and it's yours and cynicism has nothing to do but hide in the corner, cowering, unwelcome. Though you know better than to actually do it, you'll want to dare life to do its worst, because you feel untouchable. This is the space you know, though it's eluded you these months, waiting for you to exhale. And when you do, releasing the fear and worry that robbed you of nearly a third of your year, the breath back in is pure promise.