And there it is again. The unhurried pause of feet running across the kitchen floor, drawn to a halt by the wonder of the details before her. She looks and she looks, taking it all in for as long as her heart requires. There is no more pressing thing. There is only this wonder, and she gives herself completely to it. In a blink, heart content and satisfied, she’ll return to the world. But only after following the rhythm of slow within the running, the details within the blur.
This is what they teach me over and again. There is value in letting our cares be abandoned to the light that shines through the window, the smallest particles of dancing dust turned golden only for right then. The most insignificant fraction, a sliver of infinite thanksgiving.