A Beautiful Evening on Morningview Trail, Scarborough
It’s one of those golden evenings on Morningview Trail, Scarborough — the kind that makes you pause, breathe a little slower, and appreciate how time seems to stretch in the soft light. Standing in the driveway, I watch as the sun dips behind a row of maple trees along the trail, casting long, delicate shadows that stretch like quiet whispers across the pavement. There’s a breeze in the air — light, playful, brushing past my face like a whisper of gratitude.
In my hand, I cradle a warm cup of homemade black coffee. No milk, no sugar — just strong, bold simplicity. The kind of coffee that wakes up your senses and asks nothing more than your presence. I sip slowly, letting the heat travel through me, anchoring me in the moment.
My thoughts begin to wander, as they often do during these quiet evening pauses. I think about the past week — the pace of life, the unanswered messages, the news I tried to avoid but couldn’t. Then my mind leaps further — to the future, to plans half-formed, to dreams shelved for later. What am I chasing? Why do we all move so quickly? What is enough?
There’s something about dusk that invites such questions — a time when light and dark meet, a brief in-between where the world seems to hush for reflection. I sit on the edge of the trail, the tall grass swaying beside me, lost in this quiet swirl of contemplation.
And then, just like that, the trance is broken.
A tiny voice — joyful, confident, and unmistakably pure — cuts through the stillness.
“Dadda!”
I turn, and there she is. My toddler, arms outstretched, cheeks flushed from running, eyes lit up with a magic I’ll never fully understand. That one word — Dadda — holds a power that no philosophy, no epiphany, no meditative silence can rival. It is a call, a reminder, a grounding force.
She clambers into my lap, completely unaware that she has just dismantled a cathedral of thought — and built something even better in its place. She grabs at my coffee cup with curiosity, scrunches her nose at the smell, and giggles. I laugh too. The serious thoughts can wait.
In this moment, I don’t need answers. I don’t need plans or clarity or even uninterrupted silence. All I need is this: a beautiful evening, a cup of strong coffee, and the small, sacred joy of being someone’s Dadda.
Somewhere between the rustling leaves and tiny footsteps, life finds its meaning — simple, messy, and wonderfully sweet.
Pic source – Pixabay (Daniel_Joshua)
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