We were walking along the path back to the apartment, as something entered my mind. I wonder if it had been lingering there, waiting for me to arrive.
We’d just been to the playground where Arthur had happily played around, exploring all that he could. We’d been alone there. Nothing but us, a few birds and an occasional passer-by. I’d sat down on a bench, content to merely observe my son. The quiet, slow pace of this beautiful May morning soothed me. And my thoughts had been unusually quiet, talking very little of the past and the future.
But with reaching that point in the road I was suddenly transported to another place. Darkhaired women, standing on a street.
Somewhere in Spain.
Their faces tired and hard, black lines under their eyes. But there is this same quality of being in the air. Best described as no hurry. Nowhere to go. No one to become.
As quickly as it came, as quickly it was gone again. And walking on, I realized that this – NOW – is truly a space where everything’s open, where nothing’s yet decided (or perhaps it is?) – a space where there’s all the time in the world. Because time does not exist. It’s that way of being that I remember for when I was a kid. From long summer nights. Where time was no issue – I just WAS. I just am.