A glance that’s all it was. The look of a boy in a salmon shirt, khaki shorts, high socks and tennis shoes. He could have been anyone. He was anyone, Yet no one I knew. But there was a moment, a glance. Not from him nor to him but through him. From my seat fifteen pews behind I saw the soul of a fellow wanderer traveling his path, just as I am mine. Through years of twists and turns, choices and consequences, scars and memories, constantly plodding, constantly moving. Yes, I saw a glance of a time - a time in the distant future when all travelers finally arrive home. There is no celebration, yet, every moment is one - every moment of familiarity and comfort, every fond memory and deja vu emanate from this moment rippling backwards through time and forward to moments yet to come. A place you are known more than you know, And yet you feel a connection to the infinite - The infinite you don’t aspire to know but which you sense you knew all along and have been longing to find again. A glance of a memory of a future time once lived in happiness and contentment looking nowhere else but to and in that moment. A glance of the moment after the race when all is done and there is only congratulation, no condemnation from others or from self. Knowing all failures were necessary and are now finished, completing the course. A glance of euphoria and joy, love unending, and acceptance unqualified. A glance - a moment in time wherein the curtain of eternity ripples, ever so slightly answering my questions and hinting at resolution, a shimmer, a glimmer, a glance of hope eternal. A glance - but was that all it was?