Sunlight streamed into my retina, and I looked up to find the source of the burst of sparkling light. It lead me to the end of a mans nose, where the moisture collecting on the end of it had caught the light, refined it, and bent through my eye. The man looked cold as he walked along the crosswalk in front of me, the drop on the end of his nose an obvious reminder of how cold the morning was outside the truck. He was stooped over as he walked across the street, and then crossed another one. An orange stocking covered his ears and head, and he wore a green parka that reminded me of the one I had when I was in grade school. The man looked somewhat sad, or if not sad, maybe just lacking joy or enthusiasm for the day. That is a feeling that on some days I have felt. But on this day, there seemed to be a strange beauty or awe in the way that the sunlight reflecting off the man brought me to watch him as our paths crossed.
I had stopped at a stoplight on my way to work in downtown St. Paul, and had a reason for arriving late as I had brought my daughter to her orthodontist appointment. I was glad to have avoided the rush hour traffic. It is these brief moments that somehow seem to be reminders of the connections in life, the small miracles that somehow connect me with people or energies that I cannot really understand, but just simply take in.