Go Slow, Charlie
Today was a perfect day. The sun and the sky, even St. Luke's Episcopal Church that looked like something right out of England. I can't believe I've lived here all these years and never seen that little church tucked away on a hillside. 1894 was carved into the sandstone on a corner stone. The front door was red, such a brilliant scarlet and I wished I could see inside.
Hayley obligingly sat in the doorway at the back and indulged my whim, though. I'll show it to you someday. And maybe, just maybe, the doors will be open and we can walk right in and we can stand in its holy place together.
It was just a perfect day. A day when the shade was cool and the sun warm and the waterfall speckles you with refreshing droplets of water so you fairly feel you've been sprinkled with fairy dust.
It was the kind of spring filled with the kind of green that makes the forest and shadowy rock boulders look like Sherwood Forest. Makes your breath go still and your words whisper and everything around you has eyes. And if you don't go slow, if you don't take in the beauty of the moment of a patch of light glowing on a leaf, if you don't stop to listen to the sound of sheer nothing, it's like you might be missing something. Something not everybody get's the chance in a life time to see.
Go slow, Charlie. Go slow and listen to the sounds of life happening. And even if you don't have an entire day, just pause, just for a moment, and listen. 'Cause things we don't have often are sometimes right next door, sometimes they're just waiting to be discovered, waiting for someone to notice.
Don't miss those moments, Charlie.