Picture a quiet Sunday morning. The rain has been coming down steadily since the wee morning hours and has just let up. The sweet heady fragrance wafting off of the cedars seems to remind one that, when it comes down to it, the earth knows how to take its time doing a thing right. The cloud ceiling is beginning to lift and pulls swirls of mist up out of the mountains. Everywhere the eye rests it catches lush, verdant growth, and the inner poet is inclined to think, “The world is dripping in emeralds!” Birds titter and flit over the sodden, food-rich ground. There is a profound sense of well-being, a true tranquility of the soul, yet a keenness and awareness that is very nearly electric.
A couple sits side by side in lawn chairs on the deck. It‘s apparent by their bathrobes, sweatpants and tousled hair that they haven‘t been awake long. They are quietly sharing a big mug of coffee. He is tall, and his arm easily reaches around her shoulders as he, preoccupied, plays with her long hair. She rests her hand on his leg and her head on his shoulder. He breaks the silence between them, saying softly, “It sure is good to have you here with me.” She replies, “It’s good to be so loved.” He kisses the side of her head and they return to their wordless morning observation.
She thinks, in her usual poetic terms, that this morning is a Life Buoy. This is one of those consecrated moments that will remain within easy reach for the rest of her life. At odd times and for no real reason, it will appear in her mind and will paint a wistful smile on her face that strangers will wonder about. When the world crashes in on her, she will have this moment to remind her that nothing good is ever truly lost. She wishes she could bottle this feeling and share it with everyone, and can’t help wondering why the gift was bestowed upon her. She doesn’t question that she’s deserving, only she wishes for an ideal way to distribute it.