The sunshine broke through for 2 days in a row. When this break in our PNW drizzle happens, I'm outside, dressed warm, hunting down water and blue skies.
On the way to my favorite spot on the river Friday, I told the lover of my soul to pour it on, I was so empty and tired, whatever he gave, I would gratefully receive. Refreshing love...
First I saw an eagle milling around in the sky with a flock of snow geese. It looked like they were playing. It might have been more sinister than it looked, but it was unusual.
A few miles on another eagle swooped over the road, letting me admire him.
The rhythm of the river sang and laughed for me, smoothing all the parts that had become weary and ruffled.
On the way up the path as I was leaving, right when I reached the clearing in the meadow, 4 planes in formation flew right over my head. I did my customary wave. They all turned around and put on an air show for me.
Now, you might think they didn't see me at all. It might seem narcissistic for me to imagine they would go to all the trouble, for one speck of person on the ground.
They zoomed over, framed their tricks against a puffy white cloud, then went beyond me, returning with a new routine. The sky above the meadow was full of playfulness.
I couldn't leave, didn't want to. It was wonderful enough that applauding, laughing and crying out there all by myself didn't seem ridiculous. I have seen them before; they have put on shows for me before. They seem like friends, responding to the same invitation to play in the sun.
Never underestimate the enjoyment and pleasure you give; even if it's to an audience of one. I'll never know if they did it for me. They will never know how loved I felt.
It doesn't matter. It is a pretty story anyways.