Golden Light

We have two big west-facing windows in our family room and at the end of each day, the whole room fills up with the most beautiful golden light. It’s like a warm bath of goodness that washes over me, my family and my whole day. Whatever is or was happening seems to get swept away in the flood of yellow, and I feel the tension in my muscles unwinding. Yesterday I sat in this light and closed my eyes, took deep breaths and absorbed every sound around me. There was a neighbor’s dog barking. There was my husband laughing on the phone. There were all four of my kids huddled around a monopoly board in the other room (side bar: they can’t get enough of monopoly during the quarantine and with so much time they have ongoing games on two different boards with complete house/hotel domination and wheelin and dealin trades… it cracks me up). There was the hum of all my appliances still doing their jobs and taking care of us. There was a honk of a car horn down my street, reminding me we’re all still here even when we can’t see each other. It was the most relaxing thing to sit and soak up every good thing around me in that beautiful light. Life is wonderful and even in crazy circumstances, there’s a lot to be grateful for. [“Explorers,” 6x6, recent commission]