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Sunday, 14 October 2018 12:00

The Blue Hour

Written by  Priscilla K. Garatti

My eyes flew open.  At once I could see a soft, bluish light beginning to fill the hotel room through the sliding glass window.  My husband and I had gotten away for a couple of days to celebrate our anniversary.  We'd forgotten to pull the curtain before going to bed, and now our room was bathed in a mesmerizing azure light.  I rose, curious to go out on our balcony that faced the ocean.  The sky appeared to shimmer, golden shards of light streaming through the clouds.  A fresh wind blew my hair back from my face.  I could see the waves foaming and frothing at the shoreline, hear their whispers.  I'd read about "the blue hour" that occurs just before sunrise and after sunset, when the sun is below the horizon, when the sky is deep cobalt and the landscape is suffused with bluish light.  I basked in that tranquil hour and wished I could stop time, the magical light like something otherworldly. 

The balcony seemed to beckon me all weekend.  Each time I stood by the railing and looked out over the horizon, I felt as if I'd been touched by the poetry of sky and sea, my heart made serene by the ocean's companionable presence.  I would have lingered there for days.

Alas, the reality of life pulls me back to work and grocery lists, laundry and car maintenance.  The stuff of everyday life.  I don't forget about the blue hour.

I'm driving here and there on my errands, and I hear a story on NPR.  A journalist is tasked to write a story about seeking out a professional "cuddler."  Had I heard right?  Yes.  The journalist stated she had been reticent to write the story.  "It's hard for me to meet strangers, much less allow someone I don't know to cuddle me." The journalist went on to say that the experience was comforting.  "I'd been single the greater part of my life, not in any relationship.  I'd not been touched in decades.  There is something about non-sexual touch that is healing.  I found myself crying at times, because I'd forgotten what Id missed," she said.

After listening to this story, I recalled my experience standing on the balcony during the "blue hour."  I'd felt caressed.  I, too, was brought to tears by the beauty of that tactile light.  I sense my encounter was orchestrated by God, imbuing me with His comfort.  His reassurance.  His kindness. His superlative peace.