final note for the day

With full color guard, flags flying in arrears, the sun set sail for the western horizon, on her way to a rendezvous. She had warmed the air nicely and found herself wheeling through the day unopposed by the wind or fog. She was very pleased by this and had an extra spring in her step. She began to practice her scales, starting with a low contralto range and saving the high notes for later. She tossed her skirts, even flounced them a bit, very sassy and full of herself. It was going to be a good trip west beyond the horizon, and she anticipated a lingering conversation with the Pacific, wanted to catch up on the details of the night disappearing before her.

I stood on the bluffs near Asilomar and watched her go, felt the moist salt air cooling in her wake and heard the shushing gossip coming up to me from the confusion of currents below. The horizon was broad, stretching from Pt. Joe north to Santa Cruz and beyond. A silly, happy little breeze danced around, teasing skirts, lifting hats, twirling and spinning. Once in a while you can see dolphins offshore or, at the right time of year, a whale spout, but you're never too sure because the wind likes to send up imitating splashes of white from the tops of swells coming ashore.

You may arrive at the shore full of something. Worry, for instance, or confusion. You stand there and feel smaller and smaller, ant-like, but something grows larger inside you at the same time. You see the rocks that the waves have been harassing for centuries, who knows how long, and you feel your life is very short, that you have a lot to be thankful for, that for all our intelligence we know precious little about it all. You get everything back into perspective again and you are refreshed, relaxed and revived.

I watched the sun flick her amber scarves over her shoulder and they flew in gossamer shreds. Then, aware of her audience, she paused dramatically, savoring her moment, before stepping down below the horizon. "You've still got it, girl. Yes, you do!" she sang. Then she breathed deeply, hit a rich round E major and disappeared.