Todd and I sat outside on the porch last night. It was around 50F, but it felt like 45F or so, because of the near-constant wind our building sees in our apartment complex. The air was cool, crisp, and a little damp, and the sounding of the strings from Todd’s guitar wafted into the air. There and then, I resolved to awaken a little earlier this morning and go outside.
I timed my expedition for sunrise; I awoke 15 minutes prior in order to fix coffee and shower. On the way to the bathroom, I picked up this week’s Sports Illustrated for some reading material. The issue was, predictably, about the horrors of the recent terrorist attacks and the effect it had on sports–a seemingly inconsequential story, until you read Rick Reilly’s column or the piece on the Andruzzi brothers: three of whom are FDNY, while the fourth plays pro football. It impacted sports, just as it impacted the rest of society.

As I read, I was filled with a melange of emotions from the previous two weeks. It’s difficult to believe that fourteen days have indeed passed, but they have. I finally grew tired of the stories, so I hopped in the shower and prepared to go outside.

Barefoot, I quietly exited the warmth of our abode for the chill of the outside. The sun still hadn’t risen over the highest ridge of Monte Sano yet, but the glory of Nature was still breathtaking, even with a bunch of apartment buildings in the way. “How,” I wondered, “could any man look at such a sight as this and doubt the existence of God?” In some small way, I was closer to God in that moment than I have been for a while–the beauty of Nature, the realization that time will attenuate all wounds, the extended sniff of the draught of cool air through warm nostrils.

The air is crisp, the sky is clear, and my heart is strangely warm. I came inside to put thoughts to paper, but now that the sun has kissed the western ridges of Monte Sano, I must return to the outside. I’ll place shoes on my feet, ready for the day … but I don’t know if I’m quite ready for the glory.