The sunshine brings them out.

I couldn’t help but watch them. We were eating our burritos at a tall table in the restaurant, and I tried not to be obvious as I glanced over Carolyn’s shoulder at the couple sharing a table outside. They were middle aged, average looking folks in shorts and sunglasses. My guess is that they had been married for a couple of decades.

They ate in silence. I never saw a word exchanged, but their communication was beautiful. They didn’t even need to talk. She reached over and took a tortilla chip from his plate; he raised an eyebrow. She passed the salsa to him like he had asked for it. He handed her a napkin. She nodded once. They knew each other that well. There was no distance between their souls. And they looked happy.

Another couple sat at the table to my right. Their hands seemed proud of the shiny wedding bands they wore, and their faces were young. The two sat on the same side of the table so their arms brushed as they ate. He soaked in her every move, and she looked softly at him out of the corner of her eye. They were blissfully unaware of the rest of the world, and their excitement in each other was tangible.

And last night, as the lingering bits of daylight disappeared from the sky, I was lying in my backyard and recalling the scene. Those small moments of shared experience are life, and life is dazzling.