The Black Velvet Cloak
Last night I went for a 2-1/2 mile walk in the dark, mostly to clear my head of a mish-mash of confused thoughts, of the sort that crowd your mind when there is too much stress in your life. The weather has been unseasonably warm for November here in Minnesota and last night was no exception with temperatures in the low 50s. It was cloudy and so dark that I couldn’t see my shoes when I looked down. Wearing a sweatshirt and a reflective baseball cap, I set out. At first I had no destination in mind; I just wanted to be able to relax and enjoy the smells and sounds of the night. Somehow I felt drawn to the shore of a nearby lake and turned to walk in that direction. There was a bit of a breeze, so I couldn’t hear the birds flitting about in the trees as I am usually able to do out beyond the city limits where I live. My neighborhood smelled of late fall with wood smoke in the air and the smell of wet, decaying leaves all around. The night enveloped me as I moved, as though I was wear a soft cloak of black velvet. It was comforting and I felt tension leave my body with every step I took. When I got to the lake, I went to the public boat landing where I could walk right down to the water. Small waves were gently rolling ashore, their rhythmic sound soothing me as I stood and listened. Light from houses across the lake glittered on the dark water, ephemeral and entrancing. I am not sure how long I stood there, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to be holding me in place. A pick-up truck eventually came by, the sound of its engine and the whine of its tires disturbing my reverie. I turned and walked toward home, the black velvet cloak once again my welcome companion.
RP
