Walking

December 7, 2011

Andy and I are walking up Fryman canyon.  It’s a splendid morning, the mountains are clearly wrinkled across the verdant valley, echoing our own slowly aging faces.  This is Sunday in the park sans George in my LA circa 2011.

“This is a perfect moment,” I say, stopping to appreciate the view.  “Our kids haven’t yet left and my parents are still alive, I’m halfway up this hill with you…”

“It is a perfect moment,” she says as we walk on together.  I grow a tiny bit sad, “But it’s not your perfect moment—your parents have already passed and…”

“For me, every moment is a perfect moment,” Andy says, simply.  I take this in.

“Then you’re happy and this truly is a perfect moment.  And I’ve nothing to say.”

(except, perhaps, Namaste)

{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }

Eva December 7, 2011 at 5:15 am

True…just perfect
xx

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Denise December 7, 2011 at 5:28 am

So lovely. This brought a much needed smile to my face and soul. Namaste.

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Katrina Kenison December 7, 2011 at 8:11 am

You’re married to a wise woman. No surprise there! How wonderful that you live the perfect moments together, side by side, sharing gratitude.

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Mark Brady December 7, 2011 at 9:59 am

Bruce, here’s to a life of realizing only a succession of perfect moments. Best, Mark

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Being Rudri December 7, 2011 at 12:06 pm

Beautiful and perfect. Thanks for sharing.

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Kristen @ Motherese December 7, 2011 at 12:19 pm

Perfect indeed. Namaste.

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Laurie December 7, 2011 at 1:38 pm

Lovely. It’s all perfect isn’t it.

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BigLittleWolf December 8, 2011 at 10:03 am

Beautiful, to be able to share this together.

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Wolf Pascoe December 9, 2011 at 6:20 am

It would be more perfect if there were a hotel.

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