One Gate
Time was passing normally, I had no rush, so I was enjoying the fact that I had some free time to get to my destination. Forward, stop, look around, listen to the music, forward again.
Nothing out of the ordinary, but in the end, special moments never happen in a very confusing, full of changes, weird day, they happen when you least expect, in a most ordinary day.
There it was. Right above the bridge. That old bridge, not much of an eye candy, more close to visual pollution, it had the center a bit lower than the edges, and being of solid stone (cement?) it made two straight lines forming a "very wide" letter V. People were crossing, with no attention paid to what scenery filled the background to their side, they merely went on with their day, on that routine that like me, they had to face everyday, but contrary to them, I learned early that the beauty of life lays hidden around every corner, just waiting to smile to a more observant person.
During the stop in my mind boring routine of getting to the place I had to be but had no rush in getting there. I raised my eyes a bit, and seeing through the gentle silhouette of the unsuspecting people crossing the not so far bridge, I saw the sun.
Some can say, what about it? It's been there for like billions of years and would still be there for more billions, so what's so damn interesting now?
Sure, I've grown tired of having the burning sunlight shinning upon my eyes, blinding my path every day. But this was oddly different. Sometimes there is a mist, but I always surfaced on the sides, far from my path. This was new, the mist took over in from of me, blocking my vision from far away.
And all these oddities combined generated such a marvelous view. The sun fighting against the mist, trying to break through and shine over a deserving soul, while the mist held strong, but the reflection of the light could only break through and reveal the trees in a nearby "forest" specially this one tall tree that bent over the path, just a bit taller than the bridge, and some meters behind it. One could see the silhouette of the tree, not enough to see leaves, but just to see it on the other side of the mist, trying to reveal to all people, even those not paying attention, that the path followed, and the tree was a mark to be seen.
Simple, the sun, the mist, a tree, and a bridge. And the gate to a better place should have been open. Someone must have passed. It seems like a better place.
But I must follow my way, I have to be somewhere, even if I don't have any hurry to get there.