A Day in the Sun

The afternoon sun, sitting on its high throne in the sky, radiated warmth as Roy walked his Schnauzer through the park. The dog was strong for his age, only a year old, and Roy had to walk at an abnormally quick pace to keep up. But Goethe was a well-trained dog, and with a slight tug on the leash he slowed to a gentler stride. Roy smiled down at his dog, absorbing the exuberance Goethe felt, the sheer excitement of being in the world, walking on grass, breathing the air, feeling the sunlight, following the flight paths of bugs as they flew before him. Roy could only imagine all the sensory experiences Goethe must be feeling beyond his own capacities. He wondered what it must be like to live that way, not only feeling more but enjoying more than the average adult, taking nothing for granted. Only a child, Roy thought, could truly empathize with the life of a dog.

The cares of the day felt like a boulder on Roy's shoulders, an irascible burden that could not be alleviated except in sleep, if indeed the stones of dreams would oblige to miss him. He clenched his eyes shut, trying in vain to relieve the stress, the worry, the anxiety of work, family, self, but to no avail. Yet as he continued walking with closed eyes, he let his dog lead. His steps seemed to no longer be his own, determined, rather, by his dog. The tension in his closed eyes eased, transforming into surrender. It was not so much that he trusted his dog utterly to guide his steps - such a trust would have been too cerebral in such a moment. No, he merely abandoned himself to whatever fate the dog led him to, whether in a straight, smooth path, or to some unforeseen obstacle that would cause him to trip and fall or even to run into one of the two dozen other people in the park.  He let go of his fear of the future, his incessant need to plan, to know, to be certain, and just let whatever might happen, happen.

For the first time in months - years - a genuine smile came over his face, not a smile of hypocritical contentment or politeness or pleasure. And that moment, however long it lasted in the time of the world, it seemed to last an eternity. The warm embrace of the sun felt more real, more immediate than it had since childhood. The sounds of the breeze, of grass rustling, of leaves whistling, of people chatting, dogs barking and birds singing consumed him greater than any music he had ever heard. In that moment, he realized that he was not just working, not just marching and producing like a machine. He was not just following the hamster wheel of business and personal upkeep. At that time, he realized that he is alive in this world, here, now, and that the world exists on its own, filled with its own manner of life.

Suddenly he realized he was no longer walking. He slowly, reluctantly opened his eyes and looked down to see his beautiful little Schnauzer sitting there, gazing up at him in confusion, but with the eager patience of a child awaiting their playmate. In his mouth he held a bright red ball, his favorite toy, and as Roy noticed the ball Goethe's tail wagged in excitement. For a long moment, Roy simply gazed into the dog's eyes, smiling. Then, he felt moisture fill his eyes. A shudder overcame him, and gentle streaks of tears began to roll down his cheeks. Whether tears of a deep, hidden joy, or of a heart-wrenching grief, he did not know, nor did he try to know. But from that moment on, Roy would remember the sudden, brief burst of life he had felt, and no matter the pain or the sorrow or the fear he felt, he could always return to that time, a time when he realized that the cares of his life are only brief shadows before the eternal light of the sun.