On Sunday morning of the long weekend, I went for a walk with Pati around our neighbourhood. It was warm and the air was smoky from forest fires in the area. We walked to the top of Beacon Hill proper and noticed that there weren't any cars within view, not in the parking lot and not on Dallas Road below. They had closed both to motor vehicle traffic for the marathon that was still in progress.
It was wonderfully quiet. Living in cities, you become so used to the sound of engines that their absence is almost startling. It was so quiet that you could actually hear the sound of the marathoner's footsteps from the top of the hill which was a considerable distance away. It was magical.
I'm thankful that I was able to experience this moment, and I'm thankful for all the similar moments I get to experience living in this city that I call home.