Worlds Apart
It's an amazing thing, this life.
This morning I watched the sun come up from a small island in the middle of the Atlantic. I then got on an airplane and fell asleep to the drone of the jet engines, my body remarkably warm and comforted under a cheap airline blanket. I woke up as the plane crossed the Mississippi River, had some tomato juice with ice, and listened to an audio program about our nation's energy policy while watching the countryside and sky pass along like leaves in a stream. Thirty minutes after landing at LAX, I was at my office desk, looking out at the Getty Center and the rain, feeling somewhat out-of-place.
My wife came by at 5:30. God, it was good to see her. We picked up something for dinner, talked a lot about all that had gone on during my absence, and headed, along with everyone else, on the freeway toward home. As we passed through the McClure tunnel that delineates Pacific Coast Highway from Route 10, I caught glimpse of the Pacific -- my second Ocean of the day. Far in the distance, toward Point Dume, a lone shaft of light cut through the clouds and hit the water.
I pulled the car into the driveway, unloaded my bags and walked into my house. My son greeted me with hugs and smiles. We stood at the back porch window and watched the light grow dimmer as the sun went down.
It's an amazing thing, this life.
This morning I watched the sun come up from a small island in the middle of the Atlantic. I then got on an airplane and fell asleep to the drone of the jet engines, my body remarkably warm and comforted under a cheap airline blanket. I woke up as the plane crossed the Mississippi River, had some tomato juice with ice, and listened to an audio program about our nation's energy policy while watching the countryside and sky pass along like leaves in a stream. Thirty minutes after landing at LAX, I was at my office desk, looking out at the Getty Center and the rain, feeling somewhat out-of-place.
My wife came by at 5:30. God, it was good to see her. We picked up something for dinner, talked a lot about all that had gone on during my absence, and headed, along with everyone else, on the freeway toward home. As we passed through the McClure tunnel that delineates Pacific Coast Highway from Route 10, I caught glimpse of the Pacific -- my second Ocean of the day. Far in the distance, toward Point Dume, a lone shaft of light cut through the clouds and hit the water.
I pulled the car into the driveway, unloaded my bags and walked into my house. My son greeted me with hugs and smiles. We stood at the back porch window and watched the light grow dimmer as the sun went down.
It's an amazing thing, this life.
posted by Lou at 9:11 PM
4 Comments:
Beautifully written. I think I prefer the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of South Carolina. Otherwise, it would be the Pacific Ocean at Pacific Grove. Keep on enjoying this wonderful life because time goes by too quickly.
Hhm. So many places to go, so little time.
Just checking back in. Have a great weekend and treat your wife to something special on Mother's Day. Moms like us appreciate it! I'll be back again to enjoy your writing.
Hey Loui!!!
Liz Ross here. It has been a really long time! Eric Haller mentioned your name the other night so I checked out your blog! Your son and wife are beautiful! Send me an email some time at liz@meshsf.com.
Love, Liz
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