One Month In And I am Wishing on Sunsets

Greetings party people.  Our little family, the ones whom lived in Austria, just celebrated our one month stateside anniversary.  Four weeks ago we relocated.  It all seems so surreal now, given the times we are living in.  Some days I feel every bit of those twenty eight days of our return and other days not so much.  Although I did kid with my guys the other night that had we been forced to remain on the plane when we reached US soil I wouldn't have been all that upset.  We flew business class for the first time and I must say I felt like a queen!  Other than that snippet, I have nothing much to offer.  Definitely not any re-entry observations that I can make sense of.  They are all muddled in with the glimpse into humanity that COVID19 has brought us.  In that way, I just don't know what to do with it all.  I've found myself wishing on sunsets and dreaming of faraway places.  

In the midst of travel bans and social distancing, I'm remembering.  Recalling a time not too long ago when the waves were my soundtrack and seafood was on the menu.  We traveled to Athens for a birthday celebration, almost two months ago now, and lived it up in the city for three whole days.  Well, we were staying just outside Athens in Viouglimani, a quaint seaside town with views to inspire even the most destitute artist.  Truly.  

It was then that we spent an entire day getting lost in Athens.  Through the Parthenon and in and around the flea market, meandering around the artist district and weaving in and out of alleyways.  Twelve miles and twenty thousand steps later it was almost sunset.  I had read about an enchanting location to view the sunset over the city and off we went.  Only once we had hiked up half the mountain we soon realized we were in danger of missing the show.  Reluctantly, we purchased tickets for the incline train and rode up with twelve strangers all hoping to catch a glimpse of the fading ball of fire sinking behind the horizon.  

I was a bit disappointed that we did not choose to hike the mountain but as the sun began it’s descent I was quite grateful we were there, at the top of Mount Lycabettus.  We watched.  Me, standing on tip toes to see over the other people.  Jared behind me, trying to catch a photo for our kids.  And then we walked down a bit, away from the throngs of tourists and photographers all vying for the best view.  I found a rock wall and sat.  I stared.  The people around me faded away and I was awestruck.  Sounds cliche and romanticized,  but I promise you this, it was a moment.  For me.  

Slowly and gracefully the yellow morphed into a brilliant orange.  Cotton candy like clouds floated through the atmosphere.  Disappearing and reappearing.  Causing the sky to turn a periwinkle like I’ve never seen before.  

Preempetively, we prepared to leave, before the sun was completely set, knowing that a pit stop was needed.  Thankfully.  Sounds like an odd thing to be grateful for, I am well aware.  But if not for the detour, I would have missed the opportunity to climb over a table and scale a rock in order to witness the last scene of the setting. It was there I waited for Jared.  Holding tightly to a nearby pole and leaning over the edge.  Ever so methodically city lights would turn on, as if choreographed to music.  One after the other.  The fiery orange settled on the horizon, clouds lingered and so did I.  My eyes could not be averted.  

There was nothing so important as I watched.  Alone, but not.  Present but not necessarily in my own head.  Not quite an out of body experience, but damn close. For real.  I wasn’t concerned with anything else, other than the beauty of it all.  I wanted nothing more but to drink it in.  Selfishly, only for myself.   

Next time I am fortunate enough to be watching such a display I hope that I stop and drink it in just like I found myself doing in Athens.  But for now, I'll keep wishing on sunsets.  I hope you are too.