Sufficient Scintillation

 

"Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,

Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!"

 - Emily Dickinson 

I took my laptop into a conference room and closed the door. My work badge, clipped to my skirt, tapped against the table as I took a seat. I put in my headphones and began the virtual meeting, which consisted of myself interviewing another staff member about an IT rollout coming next year. He spoke robustly about how the new system would simplify caseworker’s jobs, and I scribbled notes mostly to remind myself of highlights to snag from the recorded transcript later. I was writing an article for the agency newsletter, coordinating it to release after the rollout. The interview lasted about 20 minutes. We signed off and I closed my laptop. 

I’d gone into the conference room for privacy and quiet, and I found myself wanting to linger in that space. I stood and walked to the far window, looking out at the view from the fourth floor. A couple of construction workers were busy on a section of roof, sweeping away collected water from what I could observe. Their orange hard hats glistened in the falling rain. I looked across the treetops, appreciating the birds-eye view. Away in the distance, the Austin skyline was partially visible through the heavy grey clouds. I’d drive south past downtown later that night after joining coworkers for happy hour. 

I stepped back and looked at my reflection. It was slightly obscured, and I contemplated how this was perhaps how I often see myself; a little unsure of how I truly appear, a little feeling smudged around the edges - lacking. In contrast, I watched video clips from my wedding and had the clear thought, “I was radiant”.  I was beautiful, no doubt, smiling in my white dress and surrounded with love. 

Stepping back further, the conference tables and chairs reflected clearly in the glass as well. They appeared to float above the treetops, and myself with them. A clever photographer could get the shot to look eery or ethereal. A person and objects displaced, hovering in the air. 

I had to go back to work soon. Back to phone calls and requisitions for purchases and making travel arrangements. Back to reconciling reimbursements and updating org charts and writing the article. I would return to my desk and to work I was good at, but first, just another moment looking outside at the rain. Just another moment of seeing my reflection floating over the treetops, blurry yet knowing of the inner radiance, like a secret. A moment longer, lingering … then out and onwards to all that was next, carrying close a few quiet minutes which were already narrated in my head and ready to be written down. 

Why these moments? I’m not sure. I would never remember this day otherwise, which is a shame, because amidst the mundane we can find something which glimmers. We can find glinting silver linings hiding all around, so may we pluck them out of the ordinary and save them from obscurity. For what it’s worth, may we remember, reflecting and growing and carrying forth. 

I pushed open the conference room door and walked to my desk. The logo on my work badge shone with a silver gloss. For my wedding, I decorated with accents of gold, even had gold frosting on the cake. Some days are golden, made to sparkle and glow, yet I want to recall the tiny hints of silver as well, mining them from memories of common things. Rain and treetops and accidental mirrors. How peacefully wondrous to plumb through the layers and find tiny treasures. See how they peek out from behind the clouds. See how they can catch the light and gleam.