It was through my window. I pulled over. I stopped. I watched it and watched it and watched it, absolutely mesmerized. I tried Facetiming with friends, desperate to share the beauty. Yet, really, there is no sharing such beauty. You can look at the above photograph, and it’s spectacular. But it lacks scope. It lacks the moment.
As I stood there, overlooking the beach, smelling the ocean, I was close to tears. Moving is hard. Moving is complicated. Moving is awkward and uncomfortable. But if you never take a chance … if you never make your life itchy and scratchy, well, you linger in a cocoon, and before you know it 10 … 20 … 30 … 40 … 50 years have passed. You’ve done the same things, you’ve eaten the same foods, you’ve seen the same sights.
And while there’s value in that comfort; while it feels protective and warm, it also becomes a crutch, limiting your ability to wander about.
I miss many things about New York. My parents. My sister in laws. My nephews. My neighborhood.
But two days ago, I watched the sun set and almost cried.
That’s fucking priceless.