In which the blogger takes a moment to notice how nice it is to not feel so heavy

It was that strange twilight hour, you know? That really slim period of time between dusk and darkness, when the sky is just as deep and bright as the lights on lampposts. 60 degrees, along Lakeshore Drive so there was a bit of wind and humidity. I was walking home from the bus last night, having left an extremely busy and long day at work, and I realized: I was content.

That's a big deal for me.

Jamie Cullum's All At Sea was playing on my iPod, and I had been humming along for minutes straight, probably. Dogs pranced past, runners huffed on by, cars didn't seem as loud as normal. A mother with a stroller even rudely bustled too close and forced me to step into the grass, except this time...I didn't care! No rolling my eyes, no heavy sighing, and I didn't even have the urge to hurl my water bottle at her head. No creepy old men or pathetic twinks cruised me along the sidewalk, for once. My feet didn't hurt. I wasn't hurrying to get anywhere, cause it would all be there when I arrived.

It was like the world had aligned for a few moments to allow me a really pleasant walk home on a summer evening.

I woke up in a sweat that night, having had an intensely upsetting nightmare about the same thing I always have nightmares about. It was hard for me to get back to sleep after, like usual.

Still, I'm really happy about the walk home.