she's
actual
size

There are times when I want to take a snapshot of what I'm experiencing so that I can share it with others. It's those secret moments that are filled with a common magic; I find them enchanting. Many times I've tried to translate my feelings into words and coherent thoughts, but I always come up short. The prose never matches the reality.

Take tonight, for example. I went in late tonight to pick up a bus to drive a quick run. The garage was dark and silent, and all I could hear was my own breathing. Diesel fumes assaulted my nose as I hunted for the light switch.

When I turned on the lights and started the bus, I found a small toad under the bus. I don't know how he got there, but I shooed him back out the garage door so I couldn't smoosh him. After I pulled the bus out, I shut the garage door and looked up at the sky.

It was cloudless, and if I shaded my eyes from the parking lot lights I could see hundreds of stars. In a whorl above me, they arranged themselves into patterns that I recognized. The idling bus almost drowned out the crickets from the woods, but a pheasant settling in for the night called out loud enough to carry over the rumble.

As I lowered my eyes, I saw a few lightening bugs flash in the meadow. I suppressed the urge to run after them.

The streetlights flashed ethereally on the water droplets clinging to the windshield. As I drove past them, the lights lit each seat behind me in succession, making waves of light that flowed to the back of the bus. The Gillig's whine changed in pitch at my command, and I sped through the darkened streets.

I don't think much when I drive; I got into a Zen-like state. I just drive. My concentration is totally on driving. Most of the time, that is. After I picked up my group and was heading back to town, I smiled at a road sign that caught my eye. SLOW CONSTRUCTION AHEAD, it said, and I wished I could comment to someone. Slow construction? It sure is. Slowest construction I've ever seen.

I returned to the garage in a fog. I had noticed the fog creeping in as I drove back, and by the time I pulled into the lot the fog was thick. It swirled before me in my headlights. I stepped out of the bus and felt the fog cool on my face. It smelled like water, like a lake. It smelled fresh and clean. Opening the garage door, I watched the fog extend hesitant tendrils into the warm building - and watched them disappear without a trace.

One last moment. When I got home again, I paused before opening the door. Most of the complex was dark and silent, and the crickets chirped hopefully in the cool night air. I could see layers in the fog, there here and thin there. They flowed and parted and joined again in a slow dance. I closed my eyes and just let myself feel the night. I felt calm. I felt peaceful.

I opened my eyes and wished I could share that moment with everyone in the world.