I was coming up the final hill of a good eight-mile trail run a few minutes before five on a delightful December afternoon. Having just paid my formalities to the formidable rushing Cascade who always greets me, I was surprised by what seemed to be a beam of light. No…it was more like a ball of light I could almost feel buzzing around me like a fly or like a stray hair that distracts with momentary insanity while batting and searching because you know it’s there but you can’t find it easily. Or maybe it was like Tinker Bell, but that’s a fairy tale and this was real. I looked immediately up toward the western horizon to find the source of light, but the sun had definitely already spoken its last adieu making the playful aura more puzzling. This happened four or five times, cajoling me like a colorful tickling feather. Perhaps it was several errant sunrays that weren’t yet ready for bed. Wanting to prove their singularity by intersecting with another being before returning their energy to their Master, as we, too, must prove our existence by interacting with other beings who can affirm, “yes, I feel you, you are real and I like you. Play with me…make me smile.” And then it stopped. Several minutes later, at trail’s end, I popped out of the woods with a spirited smile. I know my romps in the park often conjure up creative ideas in my mind, but who would believe at 53, I’d bump into lively dancing fairies?