before sunset

I listen absently to the constant hum of the train hurtling across the tracks as I watch the panoramas rushing past. The rocky shores of the St. Lawrence River turn into the deserted beaches of Lake Ontario. As the sun sets, the barren farmlands showing the first signs of spring slowly turn into city lights twinkling against the hazy blackness of the sky.

There is something about visiting a place for the first time that always lures you in, and somehow leaves you back ever so slightly different. It's Holy Week, and while this week has not been spent in churches and cathedrals or with the usual Lenten rituals, I am more convinced than ever.

There is a God.