There was rest in the sunset. In the girls spinning and whirling on the bar near the trailhead. In the strong scent of desert sage coming up from the canyon.
There was rest.
And we almost didn’t stop.
We almost made the right turn in the neighborhood to drop my mother-in-law off at her house. We almost missed it.
“Mama, Daddy, look at the sky!”
But we turned around and we each took a breath.
He parked and we jumped out of the car, daughters disappearing into the fading twilight to see what they can find in the dirt. Adults piling out holding up phones to capture the brilliance of dusk.
Each orange and turquoise and pink giving the watcher a breath of peace and rest and each waft of cool air giving us a hint of the autumn on its way.
We stood there until the earth closed herself up for the night and we whispered “Thank you” as we settled back into the car.
Sometimes rest must be a result of a u-turn when there is no time, really, for this departure from schedule. Sometimes rest must be grabbed, unexpectedly, from the day and owned well and good by the ones that need it. Sometimes rest is as simple as a sunset to remind us that the world really is beautiful and that we don’t have to try as hard as we do to see it.
This post is a part of my Thirty-one Days of Rest series. To see all the other posts in this series, click here.