Palimpsest

It was past midnight in my college bed above the shuttered café— the whole town in a hush so complete I could hear my own breath and quiet it, when a crystalline voice floated in through the dark like something half-remembered from an unfinished dream. Amazing Grace, sung soft and distant, as if the night had opened just wide enough for me to hear it and I ached for something nameless which I longed to touch but couldn’t hold. Years later, in another town, I wandered into a church— restlessly, not knowing why, and I sat, not expecting anything at all. But when the hymn began— Amazing Grace— again— it rose around me like something I’d carried for years without knowing, and everything in me broke gently open. I had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing— not from sorrow, but because some long-closed gate swung quietly wide and I found myself on the other side.