Last night, on my way to my twin mom board meeting, I had just gotten on the interstate when I caught a glimpse of the sunset out my passenger side window. It was one of those amazing, orange and pink, sky is on fire, makes you wanna pull over and gawk sunsets. Simply stunning.
And then blogger mode kicked in. I wanted a picture of that sunset SO BADLY! But I was driving, didn't have a passenger I could delegate the picture-taking to, and wasn't about to attempt it myself at almost 70mph. I knew by the time I reached my destination, the sun would've finished setting and the colors wouldn't be nearly as knock-your-socks-off, and I was frustrated. May have thrown a tiny tantrum in my head.
But I remembered a moment on our honeymoon over seven years ago that (I thought had) changed something in my heart. We were up early (or maybe late?), because jet-lag from the States to Europe is crazy... and we watched from our balcony as the ship glided toward the Amalfi coast of Italy.
It was almost indescribably beautiful in the dead of night - the deep navy of the sky, interrupted by inky black mountains... small for mountains but still imposing. And on these mountains were lights, winding up them and breaking the darkness just enough to make out the houses these lights belonged to - bright, cheerful colors during the day but mellowed by the night. The closest thing I can think of to compare the scene to would be dozens of Christmas trees with strings of lights and little house ornaments winding around each of them.
This post originally appeared at Always, Katie - to finish reading the full text, please click here.
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