I went down the hall to turn on the lamp to throw some light into the shadows and noted that the porch door was open. I went to close it and it was then that I saw the sky had turned into a blush of apricot dotted with grey puffs that turned blue as the evening grew darker. I stood still, held by a sense of promise that I was not expecting, never mind looking for. There was nothing between me and the sky but the exotic smell of wood smoke from my neighbour's chimney. I was lost for a moment. Lost in what I thought I had forgotten and yet it was not really tangible, only something that I saw and felt in my mind and it was like a prayer, something carried in on the wind, a small piece of drift wood strewn on the windowsill salvaged from a walk on the beach too long ago, carried home with that sense of pride and perhaps hope for our mouldings and soft edges, grains and lines of our journeys etched into eternity for others to witness. I felt and saw all that I exist for. The silhouettes of rooftops down the road and the bare Sumac tree and the telephone poles, stark and beautiful were all highlighted for me to see. I was suddenly in a gallery that I passed by for too long now. Too many days with my head down. Where had I been I wondered. Lost in worry and finances and feeling bereft I cried out and then the gift came and it cost nothing and wispy clouds can carry you off and smooth your mind like the hands of a mother on a child, on a brow, damp with fever and all those nights I sat mothering my children and now, only a vague memory of that, of seeing the light come over the hill, at dawn, like a lantern it guided me into the day, into where I am now.