A Simple Sunset

   Last night, I worked another COVID vaccine clinic, so I didn’t head home until after seven. As I was crossing the bridge, going through town, I was stunned by the remarkably beautiful sunset. Many evenings I am privileged to see the sunset from that bridge, just as I witness the sunrise there in the mornings.

As it often does, it crossed my mind to stop and take a picture, but it was late, and I just wanted to get home. Then as I was half-way through town, I decided, no, I wanted to capture this sunset. What if it were the last I would ever see? That sounds somewhat depressing.

But the truth is that it would be the last sunset that I would see on March 25, 2021.

So, I snaked back through town, following the river, to try to get the same view as when I was on the bridge.

Didn’t quite get there.

I headed south out of town, remembering one last place where I could get to the river.

Aww, perfect.  

That’s our paper mill on the left, which means almost as much to me as the sunset does. Childhood memories of the air in town smelling of rotten eggs from whatever was being dispelled from the mill’s smokestacks and Dad coming home with a different smell clinging to his clothes. The nights the phone would ring at one am, and he’d get called in because the number 2 machine was down.

See what it means to watch one simple sunset?