Michelangelo did the clouds today.
I think, sometimes, when the angels need a day off, God lets the masters paint the skies.
Once, the heavens portrayed an unforgettable, violent panorama of twisted, angry clouds. I've never seen anything like it. I was driving to a doctor's appointment. On the way back we saw photographers out capturing the drama. I'd bet the farm it was Beethoven's turn.
Today we found out that Charles Loper, a friend of the family, sort of like a second father to Charlie and me, is in the hospital, and isn't doing very well. He's had Parkinson's for years now. The other day he fell, in the bathroom, while his wife was at work. He was stuck there for several hours, unable to get up or take his medication. Now he's just one step away from the ICU. Sigh. We hope he improves . . .
It's just bizarre how life throws these curve balls at you. One day you're buzzing along, living your life, fighting your battles. . . Time seems to drag, or race, and then the next moment everything screeches into perspective, sort of like the pictures on Picasa when you come to the end of an album. For me, life slows down, and I remember once again what's really important.
Right now, Laena is at the Choir banquet with her friend Andrew. The went to elementary school together. Clint's coming home from work at Pizza Hut. Eric is watching a documentary about tiger cubs. . . Tommy's making out his birthday list, Jaguar the cat aperch on his shoulder, Aleia and Jeffy are outside playing with Lecee over at the Burr's, two houses away, and Lincoln is asleep. Charlie was tilling up the garden earlier with our neighbor Steve. He wants to plant some tomatoes soon. . . 9 year old Hope across the street broke both her arms roller-blading this week. Ouch.
Tonight, the sun is that beautiful pinkish-orange color that lights up everything it touches, licks it with glowing fire, a gentle farewell from a peacefully departing sun. . .
As the years roll by, and you realize how fleeting life is, well, you learn to appreciate the moment. The now.
I think it's appropriate that Charles' wife is named after the Dawn. . . Hope is yet alive.