It was a chance sighting, a moment of brilliance I’d never noticed before today. I suppose you could say I was in just the right place at just the right time, there on the floor of our sunken living room, stacking foam blocks to make a tower as the late afternoon sun slanted in through the side lights in our entryway. I glanced up and out as small hands knocked my creation to the ground and, as I did, a splash of red caught my gaze.
A few months ago, Jonathan put a planter on our porch, added a few vibrant shoots and leaves in the hopes that they might survive the scorching afternoon sun and provide a bit of color, a note of welcome. They did and they do. The slanting rays caught a leaf, danced along the edge of it, creating a nimbus, a halo of golden light. I paused there, for a moment, in the midst of our play, marveled at the beauty, grabbed my camera for a quick record, then went back to towers and blocks and a small girl who did not understand why her mama ran to the door so abruptly.
The planter and the leaves and the angle of the sun lined up perfectly with my eyes as I sat on the living room floor, the brilliant red amplified in a way it would not have been from any other vantage point. I verified this, standing in the hall or on the steps, moving out onto the porch to look down. The leaves were pretty, still, from any angle, but it was only from where I sat as I played on the floor with those blocks that the combination of light and color would be enough to capture my attention, my imagination.
I sat there on my floor, playing with blocks, playing with my girl. A tower came crashing down, eliciting her shrieks, which in turn elicited my smile. And as it crashed, as she clapped her hands and asked for more, I glanced up, caught a moment of beauty.
I suppose you could say I was in just the right place at just the right time.