A few days ago I was driving home from an exciting day at the mall out in Long Island. We got stuck in some traffic and I was facing due west, or wherever the sun is setting these days. (Also, what exactly does due mean?) As in, the sun was in my view, a bit to my left.
Back in the days when I lived in a land with open sky, I used to gaze upward for much of my time and examine what i could see. It could be a starry night sky or a billowy cloudy sky or a sunset-time-of-day sky. As I used to climb on the roof to map out the stars, I would also climb up and take pictures of the sunset, whose brilliance was a somewhat frequent occurrence, something I greatly appreciated.
But around here, the sunsets are often forgotten because they are out of my sight. I know they must be happening somewhere, in some other sky, but it's not too often that I get to see a true sunset sky, and if I do, it's fragmented and makes my heart ache a bit that I can't get all that I want into my view. I just feel like I'm missing something amazing and I can't do anything about it. Whenever it happens, when I remember that sunsets are still there and going on and I get to see a bit of one, it stirs up my sunset memories and inherent love of them.
On this day the traffic was slow and the Julian was content and quiet and I was faced with two things: 1) quiet time to just think. Just think my thoughts with nothing to take me away from them. This is unusual, i realized, and essential, i also realized. And 2) a brilliant sunset sky to gaze upon and enjoy and remind me of my former life. The sky at the top was blue, fading into sea foam green, fading into an orange haze directly above the horizon. There were 3 puffy clouds in my view and they were anything but white. The centers were a dark swirly purple and the edges burned in fluorescent orange. They really did look like someone had taken a highlighter and outlined them. While these two things were going on, (the sunset and thinking my thoughts) i was listening to a great rendition of Joy to the World by Sufjan Stevens. It is a little bit funky, but mostly just folksy-pretty. And as I stared at this brilliant sky, a refrain from the song was taking place, with the words "wonders of His love." As I could do nothing but stare at this sky I heard this over and over and over again. Wonders of His love, Wonders of His love. And I had a moment, where I received an audible (and musical--bonus) reminder of something with visible evidence of it laid before me, and a feeling of gratitude for a wonder, a gift, fluorescent orange, blossomed up inside me.
This is lovely.
Also, a question: When you say that the sunsets remind you of your former life, do you mean like, religiously, your life before you came to earth? Or, like, your awesome life before you moved to New York and had a child?
If it's the latter, I know what you mean. Windy fall days, with a slight hint of smoke in the air do the same for me. And balmy summer nights, or even balmy fall nights too. They remind me a former me. A me that doesn't feel so far a way when the wind blows just right.
If you meant the former, I don't really know what that's like.
One thing that makes my commute tolerable in the winter is that I am driving to work at the right time to see the sun rise over the mountains, and I drive home at the right time to see the sun set.
Yes, Val, my pre-NY life. "A former me." I like it.
I have tales for other days of my former life as a gypsy pre-incarnate. <-- you know, meaning, before i was reincarnated to who i am now. too much explanation?
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