Seeing a crescent moon and its sidekick Venus sinking low on the western horizon makes me smile. They’re the visual equivalent of a deep breath and a relaxing exhale, beckoning while reassuring us their path is safe.

Tonight was a bit too cloudy for them to be visible, but knowing they were there made the cool night air slightly more warm. It was the first night that’s really felt like fall since the season began. Others have come close, but tonight takes first. Last night they were very visible — they reminded me of an old scene where someone is illuminating their walk upstairs with a candle, the tiny point of light acting as a hand-held beacon and casting a slight glow with each step.

My beacon tonight was neither the moon nor Venus, but the occasional streetlight and cell phone glow. The romance was gone, for sure, but the memory of it sustained me for four miles. A gray combination of fog and clouds was filling the evening sky; you could feel the dampness that last weekend had shunned in favor of dry, blustery winds. It’s a different kind of love affair for me, gray weather is, and one that I’d gladly embrace since the heavens weren’t keen on showing themselves to me. Fair enough.

Sometimes we hope to replicate one scenario but are given another. While the memory of the fleeting somehow sustains us until it comes around again — if it comes around again — we learn to appreciate that which is directly before us and acknowledge its beauty all the same.

Tonight I am thankful for the unique magic in opposites and for the ability to appreciate both ends of the spectrum equally. It is, after all, only fair.