We know, from the days that we’re very small, that the length of day, from sunrise to sunset, grows and shrinks as time passes.
In summer we have long days. In winter we have short days. The length of a day may change by a minute, two at most, from day to day, an imperceptible change. No, we notice that we finish dinner after the sun has gone down, or the morning alarm clock goes off during sunlight hours. It’s a sudden thing; the creeping length (or lack thereof) passes us by, until something happens and we notice.
Today, I noticed longer days.
I left the office, at my usual hour, quarter to six.
And I noticed that the sky was dark, yes, but there was also twilight in the west.
Only a week ago did I step from the office building into total darkness.
It was a nigh imperceptible thing, the slightly longer day.
I smiled. Soon, spring will be here. Men will be playing baseball in Arizona and Florida. The flowers will begin to bloom, the trees will bud and leaf.
I’ll leave the building every night from now on in twilight, until a day when, suddenly, to my surprise, I’m leaving on the cusp of sunset.