In awe of twilight

It was a very busy day at the conference. I had an early dinner and escaped to the quiet of my hotel room. Dog tired.

As it happened, my room is on one of the upper floors, giving a spectacular, wall-sized view of the city. I have enjoyed that view in the early morning as the sky grew lavender and then aqua. And I have enjoyed the view at night when the many building lights made it magical.

But as I entered the room tonight after dinner, my gaze was drawn to the wall of glass, overlooking the downtown scene. My hand paused as I reached for the bedside lamp. It was twilight, that time of day when the colors are muted, but still visible and the occasional light is being turned on. It's that special time of day when it isn't daylight but it isn't dark either.

Twilight has always fascinated me. It feels gentle and rich with emotion. It has an elusive character that seems to whisper 'catch me if you can.' It's a sliver of time that defies definition and beckons me somehow.

Instead of turning on the lamp, I put down my armload of things and crawled up into the center of the king-size bed. With a pile of fluffy pillows at my back and the awesome scene out the window, I felt my spirit say, 'Okay I'm watching. You have my full attention.'

For the next hour I sat in the darkening hotel room, soaking up the beauty of the twilight-turning-to-night with rapt awe. I felt like I was listening with every part of my being, feeling the luxury of the moment.

It was just what I needed after the busyness of the day.