On any other day, would the sunrise look as nice as it did that day last month? Has the sunrise ever looked as amazing as it did a couple weeks ago? What about that sunset just the other night? Did you get a snapshot of that one?
So many days I would get home at night and look across the street, towards the mountains out west. The sunset would be shimmering as bright as bright could be, sometimes with a thin layer of clouds hovering just above the peak of Sugarloaf. What an amazing sight it was. What an incredibly picturesque moment, framed especially for me, and it was absolutely free.
I would hop out of my work truck and hurry over to the front lawn, beside our mighty maple tree, and as I got ready to take a few pictures of the view, I couldn’t seem to raise the camera to my eyes for fear that I would miss something spectacular. And oh how spectacular it was.
We live through the years and spend so much time looking at things, special things that fill our minds time and time again. Does it get old? Do we get tired or bored with the same old visions? Is it our responsibility to notice all of the amazement that the non stop flurry of days brings to us?
During my Thirty year career on the road, I came in direct contact with some incredible moments in time. The flood of 1987, the ice storm of 1998, year after year of dazzling fall beauty, the sun glistening off the rocks on the shore of the causeway in Searsport, and these days, I miss them all. I miss the blinding brilliance of the sun shimmering on the shore of the Kennebec River, just north of Bingham. I miss the view of Sugarloaf as I wound my truck around Oh My Gosh corner in Carrabasset. I miss field after field of new born corn stalks, bashfully sticking their heads up from the fresh Maine dirt. I loved to look down the rows as I drove by. I guess you could call me a linear sort of guy.
How many times have I seen the same things, over and over again, only to be caught in time, caught up in awe as once again, one day, another day, I was to gaze at the same sight, the same opportunity, the same spectacular image once again. I guess some things you just never get tired of. I remember lying on the floor in the living room one afternoon. My grandson Jack was in his little rocking seat on the floor beside me. As he slowly fell to sleep, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The light blond wisps of hair, the delicate eye brows, his perfect pudgy nose and little chest that rose and fell with each little breath. I could have laid there and watched him for a life time and a day. He was just that perfect, and it was just that good.
There are some things that we just never get tired of, especially from a visual point of view. I remember a couple other times as I was flying to Florida. As the plane came in lower to approach the Sanford runway, I noticed only one thing. Actually I noticed a lot of one thing, hundreds and hundreds of baseball fields. From high in the air, they looked so inviting, and so lonely at the same time. I felt sad that each field didn’t have a game in progress.
I could have looked at those fields of green until the cows came home. I could smell the fresh cut grass, I could hear the infield’s chatter as a batter stepped into the box. I could remember the sweat rolling down my nose as I stared in towards the catcher.
Oh yes, there are many things that I could stare at, glance towards, watch a thousand times, and then, a thousand more. The visions of our lives never cease to amaze our wandering eyes. They never promise more than the imagination can deliver. They always know what we want, and bring us exactly what we need. They are cause for celebration, and they help to bring us their very own secrets that only we will ever understand.
As my wife and I drove to town the other day and turned a corner, the warmth of the sun quickly swept over my right shoulder and face. I imagined what the sun looked like, sitting there, all fat and happy in the sky. I imagined how yellow and bright it looked, how confident it appeared to be, how comforting it was to so many, many things. I sat and felt the sun, and as we turned another corner, the warmth moved around to both my shoulders, my chest and my full face.
As I sat, enjoying the feeling, I slowly smiled as I remembered so many times I had seen this same sun in so many different places, over so many years, on so many different days of my life.
I wondered if there was any chance of anyone ever growing bored with that.