Rest And Peace

I had to laugh tonight. I went to my local lake-front park to view the sunset and the place was hopping. No room to even park the car, never mind look at the sun. I drove around the lot a few times and then headed for another 'viewing' point. This second place was almost empty. I pulled up to a spot directly in front of the water with an unimpeded view of where the sun was going to set.


I opened the windows and turned off the radio. I exhaled, waiting to hear the gentle sound of the surf on the shore below me, the sound of the wind as it rustled through the trees, and the sweet warble of birds. 


Instead, I heard a dog barking. I was at the place for well over an hour and the poor dog barked the entire time. At first, I was upset - no quiet here. But after awhile, I felt compassion for the dog. It stopped for about thirty seconds three times while I sat there. I hoped the owner had left a bowl of water and that, perhaps, the dog took a water break. How sad that the poor dog was left alone near a busy park. Of course, it would bark. What self-respecting dog doesn't bark when their are people near its territory. I'm still upset for the poor dog.


In the meantime, a car pulled up next to mine. The couple stayed in the car AND kept the car running. In fact, it really wasn't a car but a huge jeep. At least it looked like a jeep. Largest one I'd ever seen. Great yellow hulking mass of noise. 


I dropped my head in defeat. No chance for any peace and quiet. No chance for any rest. I gauged the timing wrong, too. The sun didn't set for quite sometime after I got there. 


The jeep left and another car pulled up. A couple stepped out and walked to the fence protecting folks from falling off the cliff. They apologized to me - for standing in front of the sun. Wasn't that sweet? They stepped aside and watched it. I felt joy that I'd be able to see it.


Another car drove up and almost hid the view. The woman who got out asked if the car was blocking it and I said no. Just barely (but I didn't tell her that. It was nice of her to at least ask.) Then she and her companion stood directly in front of the sun so I couldn't see it. I just wanted to scream. Her companion finally pulled her next to him and I got to see the sun set. It was not one of those spectacular sunsets, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.


I'm sharing this because I thought to myself during the noise and the conflict and the chaos, that I much preferred my own room. That I was ready to go back home and sit in front of my computer and type and have a good time with my story with only the fan making its gentle swish.


By the way, I did get to hear a red-winged blackbird every now and again. Even over the dog and the car engines!


Life is noisy.


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