It takes eight minutes for sunlight to reach the Earth. Eight wonderful, leisurely, glorious minutes.
Perhaps eight minutes should seem like a short amount of time for sunlight to reach our blue planet, considering the billions (or maybe just millions; I’m really not sure) of miles those luminous, friendly little particles have to travel to get here.
But to me it seems like a saunter.
It seems like sunlight is making a wonderful, sauntering statement about time and space and earth and about getting from here to there. What that statement is, I’m not sure. But this I know: I love to walk outside, tilt my head my up to catch the light and warmth spilling from that neighborly star (with my eyes closed, of course), and whisper, quietly, under my breath: eight minutes.