She finishes the dishes and opens the back door, the one from the kitchen, and takes the white bag of trash and spins it and ties the cinches at the top and steps onto the porch and it hits her. There is something in the air. This evening, cool and clear, this far-off sky, is full of some magic. The buoyancy and lightness of the air almost lifts her and she forgets what she was doing and almost forgets to breathe. It is a night when dreams may come true and when destiny may come soaring in above the treetops and alight in some room and everything change. She knows it. She has felt it before, but not for a long time, not for years.
She feels like she could dance. Like she could fly. She looks to the horizon, barely visible now, and waits for a sign.