July 29 — Last sunset
The ground was wet from yesterday’s rain, and the mosquitos were thick enough to cut with a machete. But these hardships fell away as Christy, Lauren and I watched the sun set together at Osprey Point for the last time. Memories flooded us. We had seen the world change with the seasons, watching the point where the sun descended inch north, feeling the air off the bay grow warmer, seeing the world turn green and lush.
The sky changed before our eyes. I glanced at Lauren as she swatted a mosquito. I let my gaze linger on her, and when I looked back at the sky the palette had changed. The clouds were a little more pink. The orange glow just above the distant treeline turned warmer and deeper. It was an ephemeral work, these sunsets. I started to wonder why God would even bother if it’s just going to be over in a few minutes, but he has a creative capacity big enough to let brilliant, beautiful things pass in their time. What’s a few centuries, a few years, or a few minutes, really, in the grand scheme of eternity?
