Sunsets

Rain storms make beautiful sunsets.

Los Angeles slurped up the recent dump of the wet stuff on its parched soil. My husband reported that Saturday was soggy at camp in the low foothills.

Some of that blessed moisture made its way north. The sunset Sunday evening in Oakland was one of those never to be duplicated displays by Mama Nature wearing her most flamboyant dress. Purple islands floating in a coral sea were shot through with the kind of slanting golden rays that makes me imagine I can hear angels singing. The colors had staying power, and didn’t slough off their warm oranges and crimsons until well past 9pm. The golden glow permeated the house, but I had to be out IN it, in the warm soft air. Perfect temperature. A colleague, who stayed a few days here while attending a training, and I basked like a couple of marshmallows, turning golden in the light.

I thought about my honey in southern California, how the sunset looked at camp with all that rain. Later he told me that he’d been of service as the kids were forced inside by the deluge for most of the weekend. His Magic (show), his gift of creating cozy energy to contain and entertain kids whose laughter is the best medicine for pain, is such a boon for so many.

Yet, I couldn’t help but miss him this sunset. Aren’t we in our sunset years? Aren’t we supposed to be together. No supposed to’s, Melinda… that’s only for movies and romance novels. But, I DO miss him. Absence makes the heart grow… confused. Three months is a long time. I can rationalize that three months is small potatoes in the context of forty three years of marriage, but my heart has trouble with numbers. It understands addition and simple multiplication, but struggles with division.

In 1952, my father took a classically beautiful photo of his brother, my Uncle Bob, with his wife and daughter at Malaga Cove, where our two families spent many Sundays in summer. The three have their backs to the camera, facing the setting sun as it drops toward the ocean’s broad horizon. Although the photo is black and white, you can tell it’s a beauty of a sunset. Aunt Nora and Uncle Bob always loved beach walks at sunset. They instilled in their children and in me that sense of awe and delight in Mother Nature’s artistry.

The recent tropical storm coming up from Baja has drenched Southern California, and deposited a Mother Lode of golden sunrises and sunsets all the way up and down the coast.

I look forward to a glorious reunion at the end of August, when Pun returns and the sun comes out edging the clouds with pinks and purples and golds.

Perhaps next summer we’ll find a different soul-lution more supportive of our viewing beautiful sunsets together.