Walking home from a cozy evening with an international group of women, Danish jazz from a colleague in my ears, I just looked northwards and caught the first glimpse of the northern lights this year. The air was still balmy and full of the smell of green, and the breeze stirred it gently across my face as I walked.
It got me to thinking about the strings of moments over the past months where I felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be, where nothing else mattered but being in that place right then. The sunny pause on a rock in the east fjords to listen to the awakening spring with A over Easter, singing Icelandic anthems in the total dark of a dripping cave on Snaefellsnes in June, the summer afternoon trekking through the northern pine forest with J & D.
It's those moments abroad, cycling beside the Pegnitz with S on a humid German Sunday, part of the fabric of activity along the river banks- rhythmic gymnasts, families barbecuing, the shouts of joy from the nearby swimming pool, the conviviality of the cafes by the path. Or, late afternoon at Katama, drowsy from the chill of the Atlantic juxtaposed with the still-warm sun. There's a book that could be read but for that moment all that matters is the sound of the surf, the sand between my toes. It's a long lunch beneath the trees in a Bavarian village, just the right amount of town square activity bustling by, the huge ancient trees above shading the tables coolly. It's meeting a friend's new son for the first time, skipping from air conditioned lobby to air conditioned lobby on a sweltering Boston afternoon. It's the run through the wonders of Regents Park in torrential rain.
I'm not sure where this is all headed, but for now I'm stringing these beaded memories together, a year of change and snapshots I hope I never forget.