Just Another Night

A friend of mine a few days ago asked me what I was doing at that very moment of the evening. So that started this series of one way texts…

Well, at the moment I’m thinking about how pink and lavender the sky to my left is, with a orange hue hugging it. And then periwinkle blue directly in front of me…

I truly do love the view before me. There’s something about the glasslike water on the bay, the boat houses that jut out into it, the boats still on it, not to mention the hills of Belvedere and Tiburon with their magnificent houses staring back at me…

And I think, God must exist. This is too beautiful for Him not to…

I’m thankful for this time on my balcony. Decompressing. Taylor behind me…

Music from movie scores play (currently The Dark Knight) in the background. A dog barks down below, to which Taylor heeds no attention. In fact, he just let out a big sigh. Old dog vs young dog behavior, I suppose…

I think about my love, if she were sitting on this balcony with me, on the chair to my left, “the chair with the view” I’ve always contended. I’d love it if she joined me. We could talk. Or we wouldn’t have to. We could just read. Or just write. Or just be. And take it all in…

And now the lights turn on at the houses and boathouses before me, and the Bay Bridge off to the distance. I sometimes wonder what kinds of conversations are going on down there and over there? I wonder if they are talking at all? I wonder what kinds of people live down there? I wonder what they do? These are but fleeting thoughts…

It’s getting darker now. And the pinks have been replaced by a strong orange dipping further and further below the horizon. And the periwinkle is turning into a cobalt and Prussian blue. The colours of the palette sitting on my easel board are coming alive…

Some houses across the bay on the hills now shine like individual Christmas lights. Others shine like candles. It’s a beautiful array of colours…

It had turned dark, so we stopped and said good night. However, my thoughts still raced like they were texting despite the fact I had no phone in hand. I was still sitting on my balcony, peaceful and one with my surroundings, my view.

The half-moon sits high above me now, brightly lit. The trees once green are mere silhouettes providing a frame for the rims of my glasses. Like the collection of stars above, the houses are now fully twinkling. It’s Christmas in July.

“What if, once upon a time, there were no stars in the sky at all? What if the stars are not what we think? What if the light from afar doesn’t come from the rays of distant suns but from our wings as we turn into angels?” — from A Winter’s Tale

The thought that stars may be our angels in the sky give me comfort. It seems lately that too many people I love have lost someone they love. Perhaps those they have lost are looking down upon all of us, guiding us on our journey and helping us become the best versions of ourselves. I wonder if those stars — our angels heard on high — can help us as a human race become one again, whole again, unite us as we seem more divided at this point in our history than ever before. Perhaps there is hope. I’d like to think so.

With those thoughts, I close my eyes. And it’s almost as if time latched onto a hyper-drive. For when I’ve reopened them, it’s morning now. Those twinkling lights from last night have been replaced with chirping birds, all sorts of different kinds. All kinds singing in a unity of song. The muddled purple fog rolls in from my left, cutting across the muddled orange of the morning light. The waters retain its glassy feel and look, though upon closer inspection, I can observe it’s ripples touching everything in its path. The yachts in the distance look like set pieces to a period piece from a land and time far, far away a long, long time ago. Maybe it was always here, but last night seemed like another night entirely.

It’s time for the day to start.


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