I go to Long Beach to have my hair cut and styled. I live some 35 miles away. Long story. And not today's subject. It rained on Friday, and my appointment was, as usual, Saturday. A Saturday drive after a good rain, the first good rain of the season. The world was that colorful that comes on a sunny day after the rain.
It was cool, giving the sense of the time of year we born East Coasters still need, no matter how much we love the California warm--a feeling of holiday. Bright. Crisp. On some streets that have annuals instead of palm trees, the leaves were actually turning.
There wasn't any smog. Hills that are normally invisible, and forgotten, were on the horizon. Today I liked hearing 103.5's endless (and not always great) Christmas songs.
On the drive to Long Beach I found myself in conversational prayer. I felt something I too rarely feel and less rarely express, gratefulness. Rosanda snipped, dyed, cut and dried. I caught up on my important reading, OK Magazine, People. Freshly coiffed, I made some Christmas purchases at a favorite store on 2nd Street, Romance Etc. And then I stopped again, along Ocean Boulevard, at the Long Beach Museum of Art's Cafe, Claire's at the Beach. There was a strong chilly wind, not quite as strong or chilly as on Cape Cod after a rain, but strong enough not to be able to sit outside if I wanted to enjoy that Denver Omelette comfortably. But my table faced the outside and the glistening wind blown water. Heaven.
On the way home, the sky was at its best. I wish I could describe the way the clouds formed. Wholly different from usual here----puffy, but huge lines of big and puffy clouds, almost neatly lined, and one in front of me a large malformed donut with wispy tentrils. Maybe it was more like cotton candy. It almost felt as if I could reach through the windshield and take a piece. Kinda like this, only better than this.
It occurred to me that I felt as happy with these natural moments as one might hope to feel in Paradise. No past, no future. The now of the Divine.
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