Thursday, November 1, 2012

Here

Driving today, after work, in dimming light along Lake Washington, the blue bruised water ruckled-up in the wind, the maples and alders side of the road in every shade of red/orange/yellow.  A swathe of rainbow to the north, a concentrated lump of color sitting just at the horizon. The sky beyond: velvet charcoal.

I kept shouting:

"I live here!"

I've driven that stretch of road so many times, it's easy to take it for granted. Easy to admit to a certain ordinariness in what is never ordinary, never the same from day to day, from hour to hour.      

Easy to dismiss the forward-thinking gods who delivered me back to this city that I love, and to whom I say:

thank-you
thank-you
thank-you

5 comments:

  1. I know EXACTLY how you feel; I often feel like shouting something similar as I walk through the woods with my dogs.

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  2. I understand that feeling, too, although my landscape is entirely different.

    I love the word "ruckled-up" --

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  3. Oh, I get this! Every so often I look around me and think WOW! I take it for granted and then I don't.

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  4. "...You are neither here nor there,
    A hurry through which known and strange things pass
    As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
    And catch the heart off guard and blow it open."
    Postcript, Seamus Heaney

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  5. a joyous moment, my friend. head on over to my blog and translate that experience into my TGIF post. I'll send ya a lil' sumpin sumpin if you do.

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