We traveled north on Saturday.

The day was dreary.

Desert horizons stretched far and away adorned only in gradients of gray. The only punctuation in the monochrome of highway and heaven was the velvetty blacks and deep, rich purples of mountains bracketing the periphery of land and sky.
It was an odd, almost suspended, time when the world felt still.

Do you know those times? It almost feels like each and every beat of your heart has slowed and the measure of our days is ticking away much slower then its usual swift pace.

I feel that sometimes. Especially when the highway is rolling away in front of me in an indistinct ribbon and my attention is not diverted by the view outside the window.
It is moments like these when I let myself just be. Content in the journey. Comfortable in the fact I don’t have to do anything except breathe.

The drama of the clouds always evoke memories for me. Clouds have always been tied to intense emotion. In times of great change, sadness, loss or fear I always end up looking at the sky for calm and comfort.

And perhaps that is why I remember those moments so clearly when my mind is momentarily silent of its clamor and the clouds have adorned the rain-filled landscape with their somber decoration.

The miles pass quickly and we watch the rain soaked mountains turn white with snow as the altitude climbs. The temperature drops enough that we turn up the heat inside the car.

We arrive at our final destination. The simple stuccoed house gleams a bit in the misty early afternoon light. Cobalt blue tiles randomly adorn the expanse of the white walls and glow like sapphires with their rain-polished sheen. We catch our breath when we first step out of the car onto the flagstone patio…the wind is cold and it feels like winter.

But we are quickly warmed inside with our friends……laughing, crying, remembering, rocking away in quiet companionship as the rain continues to decorate the windows with glistening beads of sparkle and the clouds continue to do their gray and black dance against the sky.

In the aftermath of loosing their son, our friends still seem stunned and perhaps even forgetful for odd moments that he is, indeed, gone. The time passes too quickly and soon it is time to head back down to the valley where we live.

Driving home we are again quiet content, again, with our own silent contemplations.

It is warm in the car and I doze.

My husband taps my arm and says “look at that” and he shows me a tiny bit of rainbow in a sea of gray monotone. It illuminates just one small hill. Only that one area is luminous and shining in shades of violet, blue, green and indigo amid the rest of the somber, soggy landscape.
We both watch intently as our quickly moving car takes us toward the vision. The colors seem brighter…the shimmer more magical.

Our eyes are both wide and we look at each other in astonishment. And suddenly we are past it. When I turn around I can no longer see the colors. The little piece of magic has dispersed.

It almost feels like another loss as the view from the car window returns to desert horizons stretched far and away adorned only in gradients of gray.
It is again silent in the car and we drive the rest of the way home just holding hands. We do not fill the hush with the rhytm of music or the jumble of conversation.

Because sometimes when the moments are just perfect…silence is just enough.



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And in a totally weird segue...remember that comments to this post and yesterdays Christmas Carol post qualify you for tonights cookbook giveaway as long as you are registered as a follower.

Hope your Sunday is filled with quiet peace.