the spot of red

As my kitchen steamed from the chickpeas rolling in their bath of garlic and cumin, I spied a spot of red out the window. Today was one of those days when you can't do much else but shake your head at the actions of others, and I was feeling like some kind of river fish swimming against the current. I pressed my cheek to the cold glass and stared at that red, watching it blur with the fog of my breath. She sat there for twenty minutes or so, like a statue— not a finger twitched. I pushed my cheek harder to see if I could see what she saw. The sky was a fragile blue, paper-thin and tinged with pink, and the warm glow of street lights threw its orange into the mix. Suddenly the day felt like a perspective diagram, with lines and shapes moving toward a vanishing point, taking my unrest with them.

I know this is not the most beautiful photo, but I felt something in watching her sitting there. There is so much more to life than the trivial little issues that arise in our everyday lives. There is tremendous beauty, and we should never turn our eyes from it.