a short walk

i'd spent all day in my cube yesterday, not leaving the building once. until i left for the night and the sky darkened with the city turning itself on. that's when the warm breeze hit me full. i smiled. it was thisness, this aliveness. i felt like young elizabeth in the poem 'the waiting room' when the conscious becomes aware of itself and its mortality. i was astonished to be alive, now, even at all. the feeling didn't leave as i made my usual trek home. i passed a homeless guy sitting in the doorway of a building and he says to me, 'excuse me man, can i ask you a question'. i tell him, 'i don't have an answer'. i did the usual things but even in their ordinariness was amazing. to be alive, now, to read, listen to music, write a bit, correspond and delight, yes delight, in the presence of my family. i don't know if that's luck, but that counts too.