Stretch out and wait

I saw a vanilla sky on the way home from the track tonight. It hit me as I crested over the hill to go down over the 520 bridge. I stared up at the western sky like I had never seen a sky before. It was like a painter had unzipped the roof of a stagnant, haze choked city-scape and revealed the wonders of heaven. Streamers of peach clouds were backlit by various shades of baby blue. The edges of the clouds glowed orange as if to reflect the remaining sunshine of the day like shards of glass. And oddly enough the sky did not change for those last 20 minutes that I drove home. Through the U-District and Fremont and Queen Anne, the sky hung over me like a chapel ceiling, never changing, yet I never saw such newness and wonder and felt like I could watch it forever.

Such a transcendent gift after a day spent worrying about things that really don't matter outside the paper walls called work or sitting in traffic trying to block out the rest of humanity a few feet away. The sky reminded me of all that remains out there to enjoy and discover. There is so much more than the immediate time around me. The sky and its colors stretched out forever and I will breathe deeply as I stretch out along with it.