I looked out the window and realized the time was
now or never.  If I wanted to capture the sunset,
we would have to leave the house right away.

So we did exactly that.  Sam and I chased the
sunset  – we stalked it – we were in search of the
mysterious, best place in Bakersfield to view it.

We had limited time and fell short of our
perceived goal.

We had a great time though, on the journey. We
drove up curvy, roller coaster like roads that
had Sam laughing and shrieking.

We did some Four-Wheeling up several dirt roads
only to find ourselves woven back to where we
started, only a few yards ahead of ourselves.

We drove up yet another dirt road only to encounter
a fence part way to where I thought it was going.

I turned the car around and stopped, looking out over
the view all around me.  The beauty called out, whether
or not I was in "the perfect spot."

I rolled down the window and paused, breathing deeply.
I inhaled the scent of dust.  I allowed the essence of
long, windswept grasses that sounded like God to breathe
their way into my being.  I ingested the aroma of them,
the scent of blessings layered upon blessings
layered upon even more blessings.

I stretched my hand outside my car window to
touch the sacred air. I was surprised how cool
it had become, so quickly.

Tears filled my eyes as I sat, wordlessly,
with my little boy.

"What about the people?" Sam whispered, somehow
understanding my need for quiet and not understanding
that the lights of the city below were made by
and for people.

"It's just us here, Sam." I waited, the emotion
slowing my words.  "Just you… and me… and God."

He silently looked out over the ribbons of deep
red, cutting across the horizon – the last vestiges
of what must have been a stunning sunset.

Together we smiled.  We hadn't missed a thing.

Together, we understood.