Friday grace

A note on this last image. The streets of Brooklyn are lined with small bodegas. Sometimes they are tiny and offer little more than gas station fare: gum, Wonder Bread, lotto tickets. But others have aisles of space you never thought possible from the outside, packed to the brim with the contents of an entire Supercenter. I popped into a store of the latter sort while I was hunting for potluck fixings on a busy Saturday a few weeks ago, and suddenly I found this divine shaft of light illuminating the canned frosting and Campbell’s soup. It reminded me of an airport encounter I had a few years ago. I can’t for the life of me remember where I was, but I was on my way home with some piece of sorrow in my heart when suddenly I found myself completely alone in huge terminal hallway, morning light pouring through the 30-foot windows that lined one wall. Everything was silent except the click of my shoes and the soft hum of my carry-on wheels against the tile. I stopped. I stood there for a long time. I can’t explain it — and I’m sorry for sounding like a sappy, double-rainbow internet meme — but I knew that moment would stay with me as one of the most beautiful things I had ever experienced. It felt like I had stepped out of time, like I was alone in the world, like I was filled with grace.

This weekend, may you find your god among the canned goods, may your travels bring unexpected joy, may your windows be open.

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