Less than a week remained before I would leave Seattle and return to the east coast. My friend and I were still enjoying our full day that included the tour of my first chocolate factory. We discussed tomorrow's drive to Vancouver. Driving into the falling evening, then suddenly, as we turned a corner, we caught sight of the sky.
And then? My friend started driving with the intensity of some madwomen, though I knew she had a purpose and I should trust her. I'd enjoyed a similar drive with her husband behind the wheel 4 and a half years earlier. "We might just make it to Sunset Hill if traffic lets us."
And then I remembered why there is a whole park in Seattle meant to allow visitors to watch these gorgeous sunsets.
We made it before the color fell away behind those mountains. And I enjoyed a rare and silent glimpse of one of the more majestic scenes gifted to us. Sunsets aren't rare, of course. It's these kinds of pauses that can be rare. The appreciation of such wonderous beauty in the midst of our bustling schedules.
Others had come, too. A man and his young son. A pair of lovers, cuddled into each other, away from the chilly night air. Another photographer standing on a bench, using her Truly Impressive Equipment. And everyone was a bit more silent than usual. We stood in awe, all together, our silence stilling the night air as the color faded and the breeze blew the water below.
Why don't I rush to gaze quietly upon more sunsets?