I was nearly blinded by the sunlight as I pulled out of my parking spot behind my building and headed down the alley.

I know there are scientific reasons for this phenomenon, the brightness of the sun in October, but I always seem to be surprised by the glare, how treacherous it feels to drive in the direction of the sun in the fall.

It’s amazing to think about how much lower in the sky that special star beams its light at this time of year.

At this time of year, I hate driving east at seven in the morning or west at six o’clock in the evening.

Why does this matter so much to me right now?

When I feel helpless, as I do under the power of the sun, that’s all I can think about?

Or is it?

Despite the blinding rays that made me uncomfortable driving, I completed my errand this morning. I placed a package between the outer glass door and inner wooden door of a friend’s home.

This was the second time I took on the task of leaving the package for her in last two days, and I was irritated at having to perform an encore. The glare of the sun on my windshield was a fitting symbol for my mood.

The package, a priority envelope containing several padded priority envelopes, originally came to my home. A couple days ago, I left the 9″ x 13″ package with my address on the front and placed it, as requested, in my friend’s mail box.

In retrospect, I could have re-packaged the contents in another box or bag, one that didn’t have my name and address visible, but I didn’t think of it at the time. Since I was asked to get it in my friend’s mail box as soon as possible, I assumed she had instructed a neighbor to fish it out right away.

But the mailman got to her home first and decided to tape the plastic envelope, which I had torn open, back together, and the package was delivered back to me.

So, I was out at 7:15 in the morning to make things right.  My friend texted me. “Why did you keep them in the original mailing envelope? This is a problem for me.”

I was angry at this response. Making a second trip was a “problem” for me too. I felt that I was being blamed for a situation where we both were responsible, and my mind raced with ideas of what I could text back.

What could I say to defend myself?  I felt attacked. I recalled other situations when I had a different point of view from one of my friends. There was no chance either of us was going to let go of our point of view. Not any time soon.

And I recognized that the more I tried to defend myself in this situation, the harder she would stick with the way she saw things. We could have gone on an endless cycle of texts. I knew the only thing to do was to disengage.

Not that it’s good to ignore anger or resentment, but I realized there was no need to keep it in front of me. That would be like staring at the brightest, most glaring spot in my windshield.

I had a choice. What to focus on was up to me.

On the way home, after simply texting that the second delivery had been made, I stopped at a playground.

I marveled at the fall colors, the different hues of leaves and the crisp blue sky. I even smiled at the shadows and light dancing naturally with everything there was to see. The same sun that I shook my fist at was responsible for contrast and illuminated the objects in front of me.

Everything was especially beautiful because I wasn’t looking directly into the light.

I remembered a key principle in outdoor photography. It seemed to be the perfect message for this situation, for not surrendering your peace of mind to anger.

When taking photos, remembering to stand with the sun behind you is no small thing.