The light was old tonight, Autumnal and hollow, yellowed and fraying at the edges like a postcard from a forgotten age. The sky was overcast and gray except for one corner above the mountains where the clouds opened up like the mouth of a wide cup and spilled the most luxurious and somehow muted light I've ever seen. My grandmother once shared with me some postcards she'd collected while living in Germany in the 30's. They were black and white, but painted, like badly colorized movies on Turner Classics, and driving home after work today looking at the sky I couldn't help but remember them and wonder where those cards are now, whose hands have held them, what drawer they've been tucked into, moments, precious but forgotten, painted in amber.
It was a lonely sky, and although it was still quite warm, hot even, it looked cold and made me shiver thinking of taking Duncan out for a walk down Leawood. I climbed the long flights of steps, slipped the key into the lock and turned the knob. The apartment was dark except for a brilliant splash of golden light, so much more vivid than anything I'd seen on the ride home, as though the single ray of sunlight in all the world had found its way into my sanctuary and was waiting for me. Olive was sitting in it, one paw resting on Duncan's blue bone. She meowed softly when I closed the door behind me and entwined herself around my ankles as I set my things down on the couch. Duncan ambled down the hall, stretched and yawned and smiled as he does when he knows a walk is soon to come. The three of moved into the office and sat on the floor in the light together, enjoying the quiet and wealth of the moment.
For awhile, as we sat and leaned against each other, Olive rolling her cheeks and chin first against Duncan and then me, and Duncan smiling and chirping, never taking his eyes off of me, there was no better place to be in all the universe, as if the only sun in eternity was shining its light on us and calling us good, promising that moments like this would never be forgotten.