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The Perfect Moment
The Perfect Moment
In 1999, I flew to Las Vegas with a few buddies for three days, primarily to attend the wedding of one of my closest and longest friends. Other than a weekend in Boston here and there (less than 2 hours from my Connecticut home) I had not taken a vaction out-of-state since then. That all changed this past week when I took three days and went on a solo excursion to Vermont.
Anyone who has read any of my prior posts (God luv ya) knows that I love autumn. Those four or five weeks of perfect fall weather make the other 40-something weeks a year worth getting through. This year, autumn in New England has been less than perfect. September was too warm and humid. And October has given us precisely 49 hours without rain. Luckily for me (and luck is a stranger) 48 of those hours came at the outset of my trip.
I drove the 300 miles from my home to Burlington Vermont on day #1, stopping in Springfield Mass at the basketball hall-of-fame along my way. I had no plan, no itinerary, no schedule. All I knew was that I needed to see something different. Something wonderful/spectacular/amazing. I found all of the above and more the following morning.
After smacking the hotel alarm snooze button four times, I finally dragged myself out of bed. I was planning to make the trip south to the Shelburne museum for the main course of the day. But, something told me to take a few moments to explore the lay of the land before doing so.
After a weak cup of coffee, I took to my trusty car and set out for the roads not listed on the map. It was nine in the morning and the temperature was 30 degrees on the nose.
Luckily, it didn't take long for me to find what I didn't know I was looking for. Following the signs for the ferry crossing, I found myself in a parking lot alongside a set of benches, walking trials and bike routes. Stepping out of my car, I made my way to the nearest bench, still shrouded in sub-freezing morning shade, and took a seat on the frosty slab of lumber.
It was there that I found the perfect moment. On that frigid morning, with the unobstructed sun still too pale to make an impact, with a blue too perfect to own a name flowering above me, I gazed out in awe at Lake Champlain. The bluest of blue above and beyond, endless rolling mountains all around, my frozen breath hanging as mist all around, covered in thick blankets of silence. Perfection. Placid. Peaceful. Opulent. In a state overflowing with vast riches of natural wonderment; I had stumbled upon THE spot on THE morning that can never be duplicated. It was perfection.
Why am I writing about this here, on this site? I have no idea. I hope there are other who, even if they've never seen such a site, can appreciate what it means to find that moment that comes once or twice in a lifetime.
If you are one of those people - thanks for reading, and good luck in finding or basking in the rememberance of your moment.
Ah, Its you again, Your Angel Feathers and your Blood Stains...
10/22/2005 11:33 pm