This morning I happened upon a red traffic light near the Rideau River. I stopped and let my eyes and mind wander. It was ungodly early.
A motorboat appeared on the river from behind a stand of trees. It was moving at a good clip. I was surprised to see a water skier behind the boat given the time of day. He was careening from side to side with abandon. From my vantage, the sun was rising on the other side of the skier. The water thrown up from his ski was lit from behind and looked as if it were itself made of light. The water skier was free, blasting liquid sunlight into the air as he sliced the switchbacks of his undulating path. I could feel his exhilaration and the wet spray.
He disappeared behind more trees, and I snapped back into my car at the red light. The moment was over.
I have my own path and my own exhilaration, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.