Me and the boy’s went out last night to soak in the sunset. We perched on a huge field stone, surrounded by trees that love me and said good-bye to another day. We contemplated the sadness I carry and how to make each moment sacred when it’s easier to engage in hate and despair.
Then a crazy flock of seagulls breezed on by, seemingly high as a kite. The seagulls were having some sort of to do last night to the west of me. They flew by in small groups, sporadically, but all evening. This one rather large flock must have strayed from the straight and narrow and stopped in at a pub before continuing their journey. Their flight plan was in tatters, swirling about in circles, a most inefficient way to get from point a to b. But it was good for a laugh.
They reminded me that life was perfect. A pink cotton candy sky, layers upon layers of exquisite colorings that shifted every few minutes, horses grazing, rubber boots that don’t leak, two dogs that adore me, a pasture that’s mine to roam in, a warm house to go back to, a moment without the sadness.