I wrote this last year:

These Are The Days

I'm driving my daughter to school two days ago. It's a downright cold
November morning with the Sun low in the sky. And bright. With that
diffused kind of brightness typical when it is far past the Equinox and you
are in the Northern latitudes. 

Everything is stark. A light snow fell overnight, but all the roads are
clear; dark black asphalt juxtaposed with the white, white snow everywhere
else. On lawns. On rooftops.

And music is playing from the cassette deck.

"These are the days
Of the endless Summer,
These are the days,
And the time is now."

My daughter is going to be sixteen on the Winter Solstice. She's sitting
next to me, her backpack curled at her feet like an obedient hound. The
high school kids are walking in clumps towards the school as we drive by,
talking seriously amongst themselves or laughing. Or sometimes alone. And
then they are moving in slow motion.

"There is no past,
There's only future
There's only here
There's only now"

And I look at my daughter as she studies the window, looking for her
friends, or enemies, or secret love, or whatever a spring-aged girl looks
for on a cold bright fall school morning. She does not notice that the
world has slowed to a crawl, that the light is just so, or the song is just
right (No. Perfect.), or that the ordinary trip has become

extraordinary.

"Oh your smiling face,
Your gracious presence
The fires of spring are kindling bright
Oh the radiant heart and the song of glory
Crying freedom in the night."

I remember when I approached the temple of social instruction. The daily
apprehension and excitement. My life back then really had no worries. The
fact I had no clue that this was so, and sure that my daughter has no idea
of how precious this particular time in her life really is. She will not
know this until it is gone.

I have no worries in this timeless moment. These insights appear in a
flash. And they are burnt up in the moment and I move beyond to clarity
without thought. I am just aware of the moment. 

I am doing the thing I do every school day, but today it is an archetypal
moment. The fire feeling that starts in the stomach and moves to the head
is right there. And the light. And the movement, and the air, and...

"These are the days of the endless dancing
And the long walks on the Summer night
This is the Love of the One Magician
Turned the water into wine."

Turned the ordinary into the extraordinary. And I am reminded yet again of
how miracles are often missed in our heedlessness, and our self-absorption.
How immediate concerns so often blot out our sense of wonder. And how the
ordinary and everyday is actually the Holy of Holies, missed because it is
so far from Sunday, and too close to see.

And the veil dropped again, the song was over, and I delivered my daughter
to the appointed place, at the appointed time. And I headed for work.

So that's it. A trivial moment really, in the larger scheme of things.
Inconsequential. Except that is was more real than life usually is. The
dreams of ordinary life are revealed by such moments. 

And I renew my resolve to tear away the veil forever; once and for all, and
for good. But right now I have bills to pay, so maybe tomorrow...

(song lyrics by Van Morrison. Used without permission)