by Kate Todd

Some say it’s nothing more than an old word confined to liturgy and superlative, throwaway statements blurted out in the heat of a charged moment. But you know better. You spot it the way a photographer sees their moment – that special, never-seen-twice look in a subject’s eyes.

It’s mutable, a shape-shifter so skilled in camouflage that even the most in tune can sometimes only grasp its tail as it flees out of the frame. Where one person basks in the glow, another stands in shadow unaware, waiting for their moment.

“Where one person basks in the glow, another stands in shadow unaware, waiting for their moment.”

Some say it’s become harder to grasp in an age of constant distraction. Perhaps. To know it is to be still – not only in body, but in spirit too.

Often it’s mistaken for comfort, but these are different animals. Comfort comes from outside, shaped in a cup of tea, a blanket, a familiar face. Glory is bigger – a sensory experience so overwhelming it comes from your core like a lightning bolt, driving out any other sensation. Like the pure white light driven down during a storm, it’s fleeting, but leaves you in awe.

Comfort is a feeling, glory an experience.

It is . . .

The clarity of a single note sung in perfect pitch, held over the audiences’ heads until it seems it couldn’t possibly go on any longer

A toe-curling stretch in a bed that’s just the right balance of cool and comfortable

Losing track of time

Salt chasing the sweet on the tongue, like toast with jam spread over melting butter

A belly laugh that fills you up until there’s no more room and your tears are forced to spill out over your cheeks

A crack of thunder so deep you think at first it might have cleaved you in two

A sunset that paints like a master – gold, clementine, fuchsia, lavender spread across a canvas unbroken by human hands

A day of the company of someone who requires nothing of you; no explanations, no excuses

The anticipation that builds in the swell of an orchestra tuning

The certainty of a vow

The weightlessness of a body standing in perfect alignment, head over neck, over hips, over feet pitched neither forward nor back

A party perfectly hosted, the only leftovers the glow of smiles from departing guests

After music has built to a crescendo, the moment of stillness before the baton drops and the suspended notes crash down again

The splash of a particularly satisfying puddle jump

The thrill of anticipation that comes with cracking open the book you’ve already read a hundred times

Being the first person up to greet the day

Standing in the middle of a field/ankle deep in the ocean/on a riverbank/at the top of a peak knowing that this is where you are meant to be

Kate Todd | @KTodd_Writes

By day, Kate Todd is a business analyst for an international fine art firm. In every other spare minute, she is a reader and writer. She is represented by Carly Watters of P.S. Literary. Always up for a challenge, she is currently editing her first novel and working on a new manuscript.

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